


The Broken Ones

by X-Xepher-X (Xepher369)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: "Cause I'm not the only Winter Soldier", Action/Adventure, Angst, Basically Everyone Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Character Study, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Angst Oh The Angst, The Other Winter Soldiers - Freeform, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xepher369/pseuds/X-Xepher-X
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They said HYDRA broke him, ripped him into millions of pieces. They said he would never be the same again, never to be put together again. They said he was the greatest danger to the world, because he could never be fixed. Sergeant Barnes, the Winter Soldier, Bucky; can a man beyond repair ever be whole again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brain Damage

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first work on this site, so please bear with me if I mess up anything(Or, you know, screw up spectacularly...). Just a little background, I watched Civil War, and I was intrigued with the idea of these other Winter Soldiers and the concept of them, and I likes Bucky from the beginning, so I came up with this. This is still follows canon, so those Winter Soldiers that were shot are still pretty dead...
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy.

  _You raise the blade, you make the change_  
 _You re-arrange me 'till I'm sane_  
 _You lock the door_  
 _And throw away the key_  
 _There's someone in my head but it's not me._  
 _And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear_  
 _You shout and no one seems to hear_  
 _And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes_  
 _I'll see you on the dark side of the moon_

-Brain Damage(Pink Floyd)

* * *

 

_Location Unknown_

 

**“** один”

 

_One_

 

A piercing scream filled the large, grey room. It echoed throughout the room, causing a cycle of cries to sound over and over again. It sounded like death, like someone was getting ripped apart alive, from the inside out.

 

“Главная”

 

_Home_

 

This booming scream however, did come from a person, a man. His large muscles had a slight glow from the dull light that beamed on them. His bare chest was shiny from the thick coat of sweat that covered his entire body. His slightly thin face was flushed pink, as was his large, pointed jaw. His dirty blond hair was also soaked in his sweat, with a few strands of hair that sat just above his thick eyebrows. Sunk into his protruding brow was his dull grey eyes, wide open for the world to see. His eyes were deprived of any sign of life, yet his shaking, jerky body said he was clearly alive.

 

“война”

 

_War_

 

He was clamped on to a rusted out metal chair, with a large metal piece that was tightened  around his head. The metal apparatus that circled around his head not only kept him from any means of escape, it kept him from beating his head to a complete pulp. A large bang escaped every time his thick skull made contact with the metal, but did little to nothing to move the piece off his bruised head. His arms were held down tightly with two thick pieces of metal, and his hands gripped onto the edge of the arm rest. He held tightly enough to cause a large cut to run across the palms of his hands, and a thin river of blood to trickle down from his hands to the cold floor. His chest rose up and down rapidly, trying to catch his breath, trying to place his thoughts, trying to stop all the pain.

 

“игла”

 

_Needle_

 

Another man slowly circled around his experiment, the man with the grey eyes. His own bored eyes barely lifted from the page of his leather bound book. He was used to the blood curdling screams, and the way the experiments twitched in their chairs, the way it looked like their eyes were about to pop out of their sockets and roll on the floor. It was simply routine work to him. Each time he took a step, he would simply call out another word, one after another.

 

“гидра”

 

_Hydra_

 

Suddenly, the screams were completely cut off. The only sound that emitted from the tortured  man was deep panting. His eyes slightly relaxed back into their sockets, but morphed into a death stare. They locked onto the empty, grey wall just a few feet from him. The man with the leather book neatly shut the book, and glanced around the experiment, as though he was waiting for a response, at least a scream.

 

“готовы соблюдать” The man with the dull grey eyes finally responded in a deep, gritty voice, as though he ate a piece of sandpaper.

 

_Ready to comply_

 

The lead man couldn't help but lift the corners of his mouth into a small, pompous grin, but it soon washed off as quick as it came. He tossed the book onto a metal surgical table on the side, and walked over to the experiment. With two hands, he carefully lifted the metal piece off his experiment’s head and swung it to the side.  With a quick jerk, his clean hands clamped onto the grey-eyed man's sweat soaked shoulders and yanked him up to his face. Only inches away, he finally said his command.

 

“начинать последовательность. получить зимний солдат. живым или мертвым”

 

_Commence sequence. Retrieve the Winter Soldier. Alive or dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a taste of what's to come. The first actual chapter should be posted today, so look out for that. Hope you liked so far!


	2. Run Like Hell

_Run, run, run, run_   
_You better run all day_   
_And run all night_   
_And keep your dirty feelings_   
_Deep inside_

-Run Like Hell(Pink Floyd)

* * *

 

_Wakanda_

The new king, T’Challa, sat at a long stretched glass table with a few files that sat in his hand. It was opened to a page filled with some kind of report, written in a language that he tried his best understand, but failed to. Whatever looked like just a mess of letters, he would uncap his pen and mark up the word, for later reference. So far, the page was almost soaked in black ink.

Although it was only a few months after his father, King T’Chaka’s death, he still felt the weight of responsibility and stress weigh down his shoulders. He wasn't going to put his family's name in vain for anything, people expected too much from him. Instead of the battlefield, his days usually consisted of signing a pile of documents, a few meetings, and the occasional visit to other parts of his kingdom. He couldn't complain though, it was certainly better than grieving for his father.

T’Challa sighed when he flipped to the next page, to see a new mess of words ready to be inked up. His eyes drew outside, and took in the fog and jungle that surrounded the compound. He hasn't left the compound in weeks, but it wasn't like anyone was looking for him, not specifically. Tired, he closed the file, and tucked it under the crook of his arm. He stood up from the long table and walked out of the small room into a hallway with glass walls.

At the end of the hallway, sat a thick metal door, with a 9 pin pass-code on the wall beside it _._ He punched in a few numbers, and then placed his hand on a black rectangle above. Suddenly, the black morphed into a green, and let off a high pitched ring. It was only seconds later the metal door rose up into the ceiling, letting the king into the lab. He tossed his file on a small table at the entrance of the door before he even bothered to step in. The new star of the art lab was only filled with the best technology and science could offer, yet he probably didn't know how to use half of it. But he was learning.

He scurried past a few tables and machines to a large glass tube that was slightly fogged over, hiding whatever was inside. A few metal and rubber tubes were hooked on to it, running to a large computer that was built into the wall. As the king stepped closer to the large tube, a chill overcame his body, as though the room suddenly dropped a few degrees or so. He placed his hand gently on the glass, causing it to fog over from the heat that escaped his hand. With the swipe of his palm, the glass became clear, revealing the frozen Winter Soldier.

Although he had a few icicles that hung from his hair and thin layer of ice that turned his skin pale blue, he looked peaceful, for probably the first time in a long while. T’Challa couldn't help but bring a tiny grin to his face, in the face of irony. Sure, he tried to kill him as revenge for the murder of his father, but he found out they were both the victims of an elaborate scheme expected to end in death, but ended with Bucky losing an arm, but it was nothing that couldn't be built again. It, in some kind of weird way, brought them a little closer as acquaintances, or at least a lot less as enemies.

His head perked up a little when he heard the door open, but he didn't bother to turn his head to see who it was. He only gave permission for a few select people to enter to lab, but he had a good feeling of who wanted to start working at 7:00 in the morning.

“Are we ready yet, or do I need to get a pot of coffee started?” Dr. Bruce Banner asked with a load of files tucked in his arm.

T’Challa turned his head towards the doctor “No, I am not much of a drinker, but feel free to make a cup for yourself”

Banner shrugged his shoulder and set the files aside on a metal table to grab the empty pot of coffee. He only found out recently about the split of the Avengers. He was hiding out in a remote part of India and helping the locals out with medical issues, like he always did, until a newspaper about the Sokovia Accords came his way. After a few weeks of research, not only did he find out Tony, Vision, Rhodey, and Natasha signed the Accords, he found out that Steve and a few others left the team and were in hiding themselves, because of the accords. A few phone calls later, he got up to date on what used to be the Avengers and such. Then he came across an article in the newspaper about Bucky, or the Winter Soldier to be exact. In simpler terms, he came to Wakanda to help Cap’s friend and his terribly messed up brain. Although he's actually never met him, he could tell he was in need to serious help.

“Are you enjoying your stay so far, Dr. Banner?” The young King asked. Banner did just come only a few weeks ago.

The scientist grabbed a white ceramic cup and stuck it under the coffee brewer “Oh yeah, it's great. Clean water, working toilets, coffee. It feels like I'm being spoiled” His hand leaned against the table, as coffee started to leak out into the cup.

“I am glad then, for you” T’Challa had a small smile in his face, but like the wind, it disappeared

“Don't be yet, I still have work to do. And speaking of work…” Banner shuffled through the files he tossed on the table and grabbed a thick file, full to bursting with the amount of papers shoved in.

“I did some reading last night, on his files, and found this” He flipped to a page with a diagram. It had a large chair in the middle, with two large arms that sat on either side. The end of the arms had thick, metallic plates at the end, made to fit over a human skull when pieced together.

“What is it?” T’Challa’s eyes lit up in curiosity, and he scooted a little closer to Banner to get a better look at the diagram. He had no idea what the heck it was, let alone why it was in the file. It looked more like a medieval torturing device than something used for science.

“I'm not positive, but it looks like it delivers electrical impulses here” He pointed to the helmet area “And from I'm reading, it has enough energy to turn Barnes’ brain to swiss cheese.”

“Are you implying _this_ is how his mind was wiped?”

“It's just a theory for now, I would probably have to try to build it to know for sure” Banner glanced at the diagram once more, already making a list in his head of parts and tools he would need to try to build it. But he felt a little reluctant to even try, not because of the endless hours it would take, but it's power. The power to take away someone's memories and past.

“I don't know…” The king's voice trailed off. He intensely stared outside, lost in thought.

“What?” Banner snapped out of his own thought, and turned his attention back to reality.

T’Challa gave a tired sigh “Those few months ago, when we put him inside the chamber, I remember I said I would...help him find peace, but…” He furrowed his brows, and silently glared at his reflection. All he saw staring back was a hopeless young man.

He glanced intensely back at the file “I fear that he may never be able to achieve it, unless we give him a new life”

Banner blinked slightly in surprise, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose “So, you're stating we...wipe his head? Permanently?”

T’Challa replied with a nervous tight lipped smile, deprived of any joy “Unfortunately. He is...broken. I feel he would find permanent peace without knowing who he is, and what he did. He would be given a rebirth of life, a new start. It would be the best option not only for him, but others around him”

“Isn't it a _little_ too early to give up?” Banner asked “I mean, It's incredibly risky, to pick at someone's head like that, physically. W-We haven't even been through all of his files yet!”

The young king said nothing, but slid the file his direction. He picked it up and flipped through a few pages and stopped on a page filled with black and white faces, at least 30 of them.

“Accredited with over 2 dozen assassinations…” He mumbled “Politicians...scientists…Leaders...” He swallowed, and drew his finger to a picture with a boy who had a huge smile plastered on his face, and a gap in between his teeth. He didn't look over 10. “Children…”

“You never forget the children…” T’Challa mumbled, as he started at the small boy. His life taken away by a man who barely knew what he was doing at the time, or at least his purpose. Now that man felt an overwhelming guilt for something he could never take back.

The scientist glanced away from the file, and looked at himself in the reflection of the shiny glass table. He felt absolutely torn. On one hand, helping Bucky would give him that new life, but at the same time, Is it even possible to bring him peace in the first place?

Banner brought his eyes towards T’Challa, and shot him a serious look “We better try”

* * *

Other scientist came and went through the lab, either testing serums or fidgeting around with the lab equipment. Before Dr. Banner and T’Challa knew it, night was creeping upon the small compound. The sun set just below the thick tree line, creating a soft glow that pierced the windows. It was a sign the power was about to go out soon, since the compound was mainly run by generators that fed on solar power. So when the night sky came, it was lights out. The leftover energy from the day was mainly used to keep Bucky frozen, and maybe an hour or two to operate the lab at night. T’Challa flicked one of the lights off, as he walked out of the lab. He looked back to see Banner shoving the files back into the crook of his arm, and glancing around for any other important items.

“Are you finished, Dr. Banner?” The King asked.

Banner shot his head up “Yeah, just give me a few minutes and I'll be out”

T’Challa nodded and left the room. The metal door automatically shut behind him, leaving Banner to his own devices. The young king walked down the hall, only to hear a small buzzing tone. His walk slowed down to a crawl, until he stopped all together in the middle of the hall. The sound silently filled his ear, like a whisper. But as soon as it came, it disappeared. He stood in the hall, and glanced around the dark, empty pathways. Nothing.

Banner shut off the last computer, leaving the room in darkness. The only stream of light blinked from a red light from the ice chamber. He walked closer to it, and glanced around, tugging on a few tubes to check if they weren't loose. The last tube he pulled slightly detached from the machine, and started to leak out a white gas.

“Great…” Banner muttered under his breath. He stood up and walked over to a large line of drawers. He pulled one after another, in search of a wrench. He became a little frustrated when he couldn't find any sign of that tool, only finding screwdrivers and the occasional knife. With the last drawer however, he pulled something that resembled a wrench. His brows furrowed as his eyes focused on the details of the shiny, metallic tool. It was so shiny in fact, he could clearly see his own reflection. And the reflection of a black object. With a gun

Banner hesitantly twisted his head to see a man dressed in a black and red commando uniform. His shirt was covered in pockets of all shapes and sizes, perfect for storing bullets and knifes. His black pants were also loaded with pockets, and were tucked into tall black boots. He had dark red fingerless gloves, exposing what looked to be burn scars on his fingers and other parts of his hand. His long, dirty blond was lazily tied up into a ponytail, stretching to his back. A few loose hairs sat on his face, that went down to his large chest. A black mask covered his face, only exposing his lifeless dark grey eyes. He pointed his gun with one hand, right at Banner’s head. The only sound that escaped him was whistling out of his mask. The sound that escaped Banner on the other hand was deep, long breaths. He couldn't go green, not here.

“Don't move” A thick accent escaped the assassin's lips, an accent Banner couldn't quite place. It had a small trace of Russian, but sounded like it was a mix of a few other Western European accents as well. But the scientist didn't question his motives, he just nodded in response.

When the assassin thought he was true to his word, He crept slowly to the glass tube. Even with his thick boots, he failed to make the slightest sound. He towered tall over the chamber, with his gun tight in his hand. He glared at the thick ice and fog, as though his murderous stare would be enough to crack the glass and melt the ice. Then he cocked his gun.

Suddenly, the doors slammed wide open, and black trail entered and rushed through the door. The grey eyed man twisted his body and shot a rain of rounds at the figure. Banner ducked under a table as glass shattered with the bullets, as well as embedded themselves into a few machines. When the gun finally ran out of ammo, the assassin scanned his new target. The Black Panther was slightly curled up in a ball, creating a wall between the man and his bullets from Banner. The scientist’s clammy hands clenched to the leg of the table, and squeezed it as hard as he could. His eyes were wide open, and delivered a terrified message to T’Challa.

“Get Barnes out” Panther commanded, his voice slightly muffled from his thick helmet “I will distract him”

“I-I can't!” Banner pleaded “W-What if I get shot? I'll turn into the other guy!”

“Maybe we need him”

T’Challa jumped to his feet, at the sound of a click. The assassin pointed his gun right at the glass, straight into a small circle of thin ice. The barrel faced the ex-Winter Soldier's forehead. One shot, and he was a goner for sure.

The Black Panther charged him and and tackled him right to the ground. His small, metal claws ripped through his shirt and pockets, causing some of the grey eyed man's bullets and knees to fall to the floor. T’ Challa flipped over his body on the floor and landed in a crouch on a metal table. The man jerked up his head and let the bullets fly from his gun, but when they hit the Black Panther, they simply pinged off and fell to the floor. The assassin slammed his beefy hands on the ground and jumped up back to his feet, with a thick silver knife in his hand. T’Challa suddenly jumped up from the table and flew at him, his claws closest to his face. The assassin suddenly made a jumped up and made a scissor kick, landing on the young king’s stomach. The incredible force caused him to fly into the screen of the large computer, creating a huge dent surrounded by small broken shards of glass. The blond man turned his attention back to the asset, only to see the scientist back. Banner’s hand shook as he pressed button after button, trying to do his part. Even a tear of sweat dripped from his forehead from his anxiety.

“Come on, come on…” He hissed under his breath, and he tried to rush. It was times like this when he wished he didn't have so many levels of security to just let the damn guy free.

_Defrosting initiated_ an electronic voice calmly replied. As Banner was about to command the tube to open, a wave of bullets came his way. They hit and crackdown the glass tube, as well as windows behind it. Banner tried to jump out of the way, but a bullet tore through his left shoulder. He slammed into the floor, and banged his head against the wall as he slid across a pool of his own blood. A wave of pain took his body, as well as his mind.

He knew then and there the Hulk was coming.

A thick cloud of smoke filled the glass tube, and leaked out of the bullet holes, as the machine started to echo a loud beep. The assassin made a dart back to the Winter Soldier's tube, but was kicked to the ground. His head slammed against the corner of a table, and bent his neck, almost to the back of his shoulder blades. A sickening crack escaped his neck, causing his body to go limp on the ground.

T’Challa hesitantly walked up to his body, waiting for any sign of life. With one last step, the assassin swung his legs across the floor, causing the Black Panther to hit the floor. As he scrambled back to his feet, a boot collided with his face, slamming his head back to the floor. The assassin slowly stepped back up, with that knife back in his hand. His neck was obviously broken. His head hung on his left side, eerily swinging back and forth with every movement he made, but it seemed like it didn't bother him. It was like he was oblivious to the intense pain.

The assassin lunged his knife towards T'Challa's chest. He swung his body out of danger, causing the knife to dig into the floor. The grey eyed man yanked it out and lunged at him again. T’Challa blocked the knife with his arm and sent a few punches at him, only to see them blocked as well. As they fought on, the assassin was oblivious to the large glass tank, and it's progress. The thick fog finally thinned out, revealing an un-iced Bucky within the tube. His white tank top and pants clinged onto his sweaty body. Droplets of water collected at the sleeve of his metal shoulder and dribbled off. His hair was weighted down by a collection of sweat and water. His chest slowly rose up again, signaling life. Then his eyes shot open.

The Black Panther delivered a kick to the assassin’s stomach, causing him to stumble back into a table. He shook it off like nothing happened, even though his forehead was bleeding out, streaming down to his eyes. They both sent punches and kicks to each other, only blocking one after another. The Black Panther sent a wave of attacks, only to see them be blocked. With one kick, the assassin clenched onto his leg and and delivered a kick to his head. T’Challa crashed into a metal table, creating a small dent at its edge. Suddenly, the assassin ripped out a another blade from from his waist, a more sinister looking one, with dried spots of blood on its tip. He twisted his knife around with his fingers, and dived for the young king.

As the assassin charged T’Challa, Bucky furrowed his brow and glanced around. He was bombarded with a wave of noise and movement. Fighting only came out as a faint whisper, their rapid movements just a blur. He had no idea was the heck was happening, or why he was unfrozen in the first place. But as everything became clear, his instincts took over, and commanded him to escape. He ripped through the white restraint belt like it was paper. He slammed his fist on the glass, only to vibrate it as best. He grinded his teeth and tightened his fist, and banged again. He hit the glass over and over again, but failed to even crack it. It would only rock back and forth, nothing more. Then an idea swept over him.

The Winter Soldier firmly put his arm on his side, and twisted his shoulders with his weight. With each rock, his glass cradle shook to the side. He did this over and over, until with one last rock, the glass tube finally rolled to the side, and shattered on the ground.

The loud shatter grabbed the attention of the two fighters, causing them to stop mid punch. Thy froze in place, and glanced around the glass tube, or at least what was left of it. Shards of glass were scattered all over the floor, with Bucky helplessly swallowed within a pile of it. He replied with a deep moan as small shards of glass embedded themselves in his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut in the sharp pain that went through his hand as he tried to stagger up to his feet with only one arm. He tried to get his footing, but only slipped to the floor again, causing more glass to slice his arms and shoulders. He gave another moan, and glared up above him. A look of confusion crossed his face.

“What the hell…” Bucky muttered. High above him, he saw a large muscled beast, with pale green skin and dark green eyes that only read blind anger. The Hulk snarled as the Bucky stared at him, dumbfounded on who he was, let alone why he was here. Since he was forced out of his ice slumber, he had a million questions on basically everything.

But that would have to be answered later. Suddenly, the green giant let out a loud roar, and swung his fist at the Winter Soldier. He quickly rolled out of the way, before the Hulk’s massive fist created a crater in the floor.

Bucky stumbled to his feet and darted out of the lab. He knew one way or another, he needed to get out of the compound, before that green thing splattered him against the wall. Suddenly, a huge glass lamp shattered above, sending glass and metal to rain down. He slid across the floor, and cowered until it glass stopped beating down on his back. Glancing back up, he saw the assassin, with his crooked neck and his gun. But Bucky didn't run away. Instead, he slowly stood up, and planted himself in the hallway. His steely blue eyes glared into the assassins dull grey eyes. But he didn't deliver his classic stare, It was a glare of familiarity, as though he was examining the assassin. Like he recognized him.

Suddenly T’Challa tackled the assassin to the ground, and clamped down to his neck. He tightened his hold every time the assassin would try to struggle out, like a fish trying to wiggle itself back to water.

He shot his head up “Go. Run”

Bucky glanced back down to grey eyed man once more, then shot off again. He ran a sharp corner and skidded to a stop in front of a door at the end of that hallway. His head peeked through a small window attached to the heavy, metal entrance. Inside was a countless number of guns neatly lined up, as well as other weapons and bulletproof clothing that hung down. He banged on the door with his fist a couple of times, but only left a small dent in the door.  As he panted and tried to catch his breath, out of the corner of his eye was a small number pad, waiting to be used. Instead of using the pad logically, he drove his fist through the pad, causing wires and dented metal to surround his tight fist. He felt the sharp metal drive through his skin, but he was trained to ignore the pain. It was only temporary, anyways.

The door beeped open, and slowly slid out of view. Since he didn't have time, Bucky shoved his way through the entrance, and pushed the door as quickly as he could. The metal ignited into sparks as it was shoved back into the wall, creating a small light show that gave a soft glow to the weapons room.

He pulled down a black backpack from the wall and shoved as many items as he could inside was quick as possible. Guns, ammo, knives, anything he could grab his hand on founds its place in his new backpack. He even managed to find a few protein bars that were in a pocket of one of the bullet proof vests. As he fumbled around with the zipper on his new vest, he noticed a few files shoved in a corner, next to a few boxes, like someone was trying to hide it, but didn't have enough time. Puzzled, he yanked them out of their hiding place, and brought them to his view. It was an old, crinkly file that was yellowed and stained in the corners, like it was sitting in a damp corner for years. Yet, it failed to even have a speck of dust anywhere on it. It's title was in Russian, with a classic Hydra stamp in the middle.

_Проект морозильной камеры горения_

_Project Freezer Burn_

He took no hesitation stuffing it in his backpack. After it was filled to the point where it looked like it would split open at any second, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and cocked his pistol. He poked his head slowly out the door, with his gun firmly held in his hand. He quickly jerked his head around, with the gun following right in front of him. As far as he could tell, the halls were actually empty. Sure, he could hear the groans and hiss’ of pain close by, but he was safe. For now.

He burst through the door and made a run down the hall, with his goal in front, a staircase. His arm shredded through the air, with his metal shoulder bouncing along. Suddenly, as though the floor was swept below him, a huge tremor swept him from his feet back onto the floor. As he crashed and skidded across the cold floor, a stream of blood started to run from his forehead and his arms as well, dripping down. His wild eyes turned to see the huge green guy, surround by a mountain of rubble from the floor. Right now, The hulk was that cat. Bucky was the mouse.

With his back on the ground, Bucky pulled the trigger, firing a few rounds at the big guy. The bullets only seemed to make him more furious than actually hurt him. Realizing his potentially fatal mistake, he scrambled to his feet and ran like hell. The hulk close behind tore through the hallway like tissue paper. Walls crumbled down, doors flew off their hinges, the floor dented with each huge stomp he took. Bucky didn't bother to turn behind him. He could hear the sounds to broken metal and rocks rumbling getting closer and closer. But that beautiful stairwell became closer as well.

The Hulk released a huge scream, shattering the windows attached to the walls. He swung his meaty fist, hitting Bucky dead center. He crashed through a window, and flew at the wall. He hissed in pain as he heard a sinking crack when he slammed through the wall. He delicately touched his vest, but immediately recoiled, as a wave of needles and pain shook through his body. Even when he barely breathed, the pain took over.

As the big green guy tore the wall off to his room, Bucky pulled out a small silver dagger from his backpack, and held it tightly in his sweat-caked hands. His breaths became deeper, and louder. His heart raced, creating a heart beat that filled his ears. He wasn't going down without another fight.

Suddenly, he heard a rain of bullets, and the Hulk turn his head down the hall. Down the hall, through all the dust and rubble, was the assassin, with a beefy gun in his hands. He stumbled down slowly, his footsteps jerky, like he was a puppet. The big green guy growled, and charged the assassin, letting Bucky an escape route. He didn't hesitate to jump to his feet and dart through the hole in the wall. He ran up the stairs, and slammed the door open at the top. He was hit by the flaming scent of dew drops from the thick, lush jungle. A small breeze blew his hair in his bloody, scratched up face. He was surround by a thick layer of fog that seemed to swallow the compound. But Bucky found what he needed.

He ran down the roof to a helicopter, as though it was just waiting for him. He flung the door open and jumped inside. He didn't even bother with the seat-belt, he just stabbed a few buttons and yanked the lever, powering it to life. He rapidly went from the lever to the control stick, trying to operate his ride with just one hand. It didn't slow him down that much, a few seconds he was up in the air, riding away from his once safe haven. He twisted his head as he saw the compound swallowed by the the fog. Feeling at least a shred safer, he glanced around the helicopter for more features to use.

  
He didn't think twice to press _Stealth Mode._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped this gave you a better taste of what I was going for. I'm think I'll be able to update every few days, at least until I start school too, so hoped you enjoyed


	3. Dreams

_But listen carefully to the sound_  
_Of your loneliness_  
_Like a heartbeat drives you mad_  
_In the stillness of remembering_  
_What you had_  
_And what you lost_

-Dreams(Fleetwood Mac)

* * *

 

_Wakanda_

It was morning of the next day. The rising sun revealed the trashed compound. A huge hole exposed the laboratory, letting the thick humid jungle air seep in. Lab equipment was scattered on the ground. Glass covered the exposed chunks of flooring ripped up. Tables were caved in, no hope of repair.

“No, no thank you”

T’Challa lightly moved the nurse’s hand away from his bleeding forehand. He sighed, and held an ice pack to his throbbing head. Stepping off of one of the last good tables he sat on, he grabbed a white, clean towel from the medical cart. He knelt down in front of the frightened Dr. Banner, who sat defensive in the corner of the room. Bruce held his forehead with his dirty hands, frustrated, and disappointed of his actions. The shaken scientist blinked in surprise, when the young king held a towel out for him.

“No, I'm good” He put his palm out, and turned his head, like he didn't deserve comfort.

T’Challa still wrapped it around Banner’s body, and sat across from him. He sighed, as he thought of his next actions.

“How is your shoulder, Dr. Banner?” T’Challa asked. Banner in response lightly touched his bullet wound, soaked in blood. It left a dull, throbbing pain that stung if he rolled his shoulders around.

“It's fine, I suppose” Banner responded in a hoarse voice, tugging on the towel with his hand “How much damage did...the other guy cause?”

“It's nothing that we cannot handle” T’Challa whispered back.

Banner sighed. Out of all places to let the green guy go, he didn't expect it here. It was a remote compound in the middle of nowhere, with only a few people to actually talk to. Most of the time, he was just in his room alone with his thoughts. Other than getting really frustrated with the coffee machine, he couldn't think of anything that would tick him off. Speaking of the trigger...

“Did you get the guy?” Banner asked, popping his head up from his gloominess

“I'm afraid not” The young king frowned “Once you calmed down, we looked around, but found nothing”

“What about Barnes’? Where's he?”

“I don't know” 

“Say what?” Banner blinked in surprise “He's gone?” The first thing he thought was that poor old Bucky was dead, buried somewhere in the rubble with a bullet in his head.

“He must have escaped with the helicopter. It's gone” T’Challa responded in a clear, slow voice.

“Well, can't you track it or something?”

T’Challa replied with a tired sigh “We already tried”

Banner gave a huge sigh in response, and let his head go limp. It slightly turned, hitting the wall in back.

“Isn't this just perfect. We had one job and it blew up in our face. Spectacularly” The scientist remarked with bitter sarcasm.

“We cannot blame ourselves. We never planned for an attack such as that. We never planned for guns. We never planned-”

“For the big guy?” Banner shot a serious look at T’Challa. The king drew his eyes to his cut up hands, hugging his knee cap.

“For an elite killer to sneak in and and attempt to kill Barnes. We only prepared for Mr. Stark” T’Challa said silently. They both sighed at the same time, letting silence fill the room.

Then Banner broke it “Any information on him yet?”

T’Challa slowly stood up and drew his attention to one of the last computers still working. It was filled with photos and pictures of files, that disappeared quickly and were replaced again and again.

“Not so far” He replied. Soon after, Banner stood up from the floor, and glanced at the computer screen himself.

“So, where from here? Shouldn't we contact Steve?” Banner asked, as he walked and stood beside the young king.

T’Challa sighed, and pulled a small flip phone from his pocket. He flipped through the menu and made it to the contact list, with Rogers the only name listed. His finger hesitantly hovered over the call button. How would he even tell him about the past night? How would he feel when he told him someone after his best friend? How would they even start to find the Winter Soldier?

He ignored the feeling that began to boil within his stomach, and he pressed the call button. After a few rings, the phone was answered.

“Captain Rogers?” T’Challa swallowed a lump in his throat “We have been compromised, Our asset is missing”

* * *

  _Northern California_

“We’ll get on it right away” Steve replied in a steel cut tone. He shut the tiny phone, and held it tightly in his hand. He clenched his jaw, and glared down at the wooden floor. One of the only places he thought Bucky would be safe, and now he's missing. Sighing, he threw the phone on the dining room table and walked outside to the wilderness.

The ex-avengers new safe haven was a remote, log cabin deep in the mountains. It was surround by a dense forest, hidden away from invaders. They were at least half an hour from the nearest city, 20 minutes from the nearest paved road. The only car they had was a beaten up old pickup truck, which always seemed to be in need of repair. But almost half a year from the big fight, they haven't been found.

Clint left as soon as he could. He still had a family to tend to. From the last time Steve heard from him, they moved from their little farm house to escape the possibility of being caught by Ross. Scott on the other hand, even with a daughter and technically a job with Hank Pym, he hung out at the lodge. He didn't want to compromise his daughter and get her involved in this fiasco, neither Pym. He said the only reason he would leave would be if his “boss” sent him an urgent call to get his ass back to San Francisco.

The former avenger felt the cool, mountain air against his skin, as the afternoon sun glowed against the tall, green trees. He had to admit, it was pretty peaceful being out in the middle of nowhere. But that peace was forgotten as soon as he received that phone call. Not only did he have to search for his friend with almost no knowledge of where he could be, he had to do it before Ross found him. Or worse, Stark.

He took a deep breath of the forest air, before he went back inside. He entered to see Wanda and Sam what looked like preparing some kind of soup for lunch. Carrots, potatoes, and celery were thrown about on the kitchen table, as Wanda carefully cut thin slices. Sam poured a few cups of water in a big, dented metal pot and flicked on the stove. Even if they were out in the middle of nowhere, a big, noisy generator kept everything powered.

Scott suddenly emerged from the living room, fresh from a shower. He lazily leaned against the sill of the door, wearing nothing but a towel to keep his man parts hidden away.

“Soooo” Scott gave a crooked smile “What did I miss?”

Sam glanced at him for a second, but immediately turned away in a mixture of disgust and horror.

“Jesus man!” Sam cried “Put on a pair of pants!”

“What?” Scott replied innocently “I'm not completely naked! The towel covers everything!”

Sam just shook his head, and refused to look towards basically stark naked man’s direction. Steve on the other hand just shrugged, bothered by it in the least. He was used to half naked men when he enlisted in the army. Half the time the soldiers would skip around the camp completely naked. Apparently rules have changed since he went in the ice.

“Is it gonna kill you to put on pants? We don't need you prancing around here in a tiny towel” Sam waved his hands around the small cabin.

“It's fine! I'm just letting it breath!” Scott hung his hands over his midsection, and shook his hips a little, as bought he was attempting a dance. To the disguised flyer however, it looked like he was attempting to shake that small towel off himself and start a stripper party.

“No!”

Suddenly, a pair of dark jeans flew his direction, and practically swept him off his feet. He stumbled back at the force they were thrown at him, like they were shot off in a cannon The guys eyes shot to the enhanced young girl, whose fingertips were swirled around in a sea of red energy. She replied with a small, crooked grin as the energy dissipated from the pants and her hands as well.

“Pants, please” Wanda asked with a small smile. Scott grumbled and slowly backed out of the room, with his new pants in his hands. When he left the room, Sam let out a loud sigh of relief, loud enough for the practically naked Scott to hear.

“He's gonna need a couple of those towels before he does that again…” Sam mumbled, as he turned off the water from the faucet.

“Come again?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Some people look fine like that” He pointed ever so confidently to himself “Some people look like that” He pointed out the door.

“Where would I sit?” Steve asked with a small smile.

“I'm not falling into that!” Sam playfully pushed the ex-soldiers massive shoulder, barely swaying him from his spot “But I bet Barnes wouldn't look half bad”

Suddenly the small smile washed off of Steve's face, and was replaced with a look of guilt . As best as he tried to change that as well, it was enough time for his flying friend to notice.

“Hey, you ok man?” Sam asked, now in concern. Steve sighed, and leaned against the counter of the kitchen.

“Bucky's missing. Again” The soldier swallowed a lump in his throat. He was met with cold a silence, almost as cold as the air of the cabin itself.

“Ross found the compound?” Wanda asked, as she put her knife to the side.

Steve shook his head “Someone else, but probably hired by Ross. Snuck in and tried to put a bullet in his head. From what King T’Challa told me, it's likely Bucky escaped in a helicopter”

“What makes you think he wasn't just kidnapped?” Wanda asked again. Steve replied with an intense stare.

“Because. Some like him who is so paranoid doesn't just get kidnapped”

“Then what about the other guy? Did he get a good look at him?” Sam crossed his arms. Steve silently shook his head.

“We can worry about him later” Steve replied in a cold tone “Our priority should be finding Buck before Ross does”

“Then let's get moving” Sam walked over to a small coat rack and pulled off a small backpack, waiting to be filled with items.

“Where do we start?” Wanda asked, in general confusion more than confidence. The Winter Soldier could be anywhere by now, hidden away in the deepest parts of a country. He did pretty well hiding for two years, and could easily stay in hiding for more. But, their could be one certain billionaire who could get him.

“Should we call Stark?”

“No!”

Scott walked into the kitchen, as he hooked on a leather belt to his pants. He wore a wrinkly grey t-shirt as well as the pair of pants Wanda chucked at him. He had one of the most serious faces the team had ever seen on him, even more serious than the one he had when he was thrown in jail in the middle of nowhere.

“No, we are not getting a Stark involved in this” Scott commanded in an uncharacteristic voice “Pym told me when a Stark gets involved, everything goes to complete hell”

“I think Wanda has a point there”

“Say what?” The small hero blinked in utter surprise at what Steve said.

“As much as I hate to admit, Stark has the technology to track Bucky in a short amount of time. Even if he was arrested, it's better that he's sitting in a cell than running away from a line of bullets”

Scott waved his has around and looked Steve in the eyes, as though he completely lost his mind “I don't know if you remember Cap, but the last time Mr. Iron _ass_ saw your friend, his arm got blown off”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, as though he was starting to get frustrated. Well of course he knew Tony tried to wring the life out of his comrade. But their was something more to Tony's motive. When Bucky lost his arm, Tony simply kicked him aside and fought with Steve, like an unwanted toy. He didn't go and finish the job, like he wanted to in the first place. Steve was sure if Tony only focused on the ex-Winter Soldier the entire time, Bucky would have lost a lot more than his metal arm. Maybe his life. 

Steve drew his eyes to Scott, and set his brow narrow “When I fought with Tony one last time, it was only me and him. It was like everything around us disappeared, including our reason to fight. We didn't fight over the accords, over Bucky, or even over his parents death. We fought because we had to win, even if it was for nothing. We had to see one of us go down to the ground, and stay there”

“I might not know Tony as much as I should to say this, but I believe he'll do what's right, not just for himself”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Steve for you! Not much in the terms of anything else, so hoped you enjoyed!


	4. Somebody That I Used to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes I added.
> 
> (Italics) = Translations
> 
> *Italics* = Reading
> 
> Italics = Memory/Flashback
> 
> I'll add this to every chapter this comes up, so their won't be any confusion. Sorry if my translations aren't correct either.

_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness_  
_Like resignation to the end, always the end_  
_So when we found that we could not make sense_  
_Well you said that we would still be friends_  
_But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over_

-Somebody That I Used to Know(Gotye)

* * *

 

_Alexandria, Egypt_

نعم ، تذكرة واحدة فقط _(Yeah, only one ticket)_ Bucky said softly, as he pointed to a sign with ticket numbers and prices. The man on the other side of the counter looked completely bored and uninterested, like he should have retired years ago.

إلى إيطاليا _(To Italy?)_ The man replied in a monotone tone, with completely dead eyes.

Bucky nodded back. The bored man then pulled out of his chair and handed him a small paper ticket, with a image of the map of Italy on it. He slowly scooted out the small line, letting the rest of the people rush to the small shack. He glanced around the empty harbor, and walked over to lean against a wall, in wait of the boat, his ticket out of the country.

He ditched his helicopter a while back, near Cairo. After that it was pretty much a breeze. Since Steve wasn't the only one who knew how to hijack a car, Bucky rode to Alexandria in a beaten up old Volkswagen until it sputtered out of life, luckily near the edge of the city. He was lucky he found a little money in the car, or he wouldn't have bought his boat ticket to Venice, Italy.

He still wore his backpack of mass destruction, still filled with an assortment of weapons, but he wasn't very fazed about taking it on the boat. It wasn't like the people working on the boat were actually going to check it. But even if they did, he had another plan in his pocket. It involved a lot chaos and hijacking a boat.

He glanced around, his grey blue eyes hidden under a navy blue baseball cap. His shoulder length hair sat in his face, not tucked behind his ears, to hide his identity. He also had an old grey sweatshirt over his bulletproof vest, just in case. Not to many people, surprisingly enough, didn't look twice at his empty left sleeve, that just hung on the side of his body. Most people had other concerns to deal with.

The stubble around his cheeks and chin began to grow a little, as though he was starting to grow a beard and mustache. He thought after he got off the boat, he would buy razors to shave his face, since his face was beginning to itch a little. His pants on the other hand were still the ones he wore at the compound. They were torn up at the knees and has large spots of stained, dark brown blood. He tried to rub some dirt on it to fade it out, but it was still pretty obvious that it was soaked in blood. Hopefully people thought he was wearing some weird designer jeans.

A loud siren caused him to jerk his head up in a new wave of nervousness. He hesitantly clenched his jaw and suspiciously glanced around, in search of anyone who wanted to arrest him. Instead of police, other people started to boat onto the small boat. That siren was only a signal to start boarding.

He gave an internal sigh of relief and merged into the crowd. Their wasn't that many people who desperately wanted to go to Italy, but the boat was small enough to signal it would be a tight squeeze.

As he climbed up the ramp, he handed the ticket to a portly man who barely glanced at him under his own captain hat. He simply replied with a grunt and stuffed the ticket back into Bucky's hand, letting him free. He held his ticket tight in his hand, and made his way inside the boat.

Inside, it was in obvious need to repair. It looked like it was a luxury boat, but in the 80’s. Seat cushions were simply repaired with long strands of duct tape. The wooden floor was cracked in many spots, and simply covers up with a dirty, old carpet. Some of the flowery wall paper was peeling off the wall in large layers, revealing a stained dark yellow underneath. The port windows on the side were scratched up in graffiti and fogged over permanently, with what seemed like a thick layer of grease. In other words, the boat wasn't the best looking, but it didn't draw attention.

The Winter Soldier made his way to the back corner of the boat, and settled into his seat. He plopped his massive backpack on the seat beside, just in case anyone wanted to sit near him. It was only minutes later the boat engine roared to life and slowly speed off to its destination. Although the boat was generally packed with people, the lousiest noise only came from the roar of the engine. Not even small babies cried out. It almost gave an eerie feeling that sliced through the air. Not that Bucky minded, however.

He dug through a small pocket in the backpack and pulled out a protein bar. Unwrapping the plastic, his eyes drew to the outside. Slowly but surely, the harbor became farther and farther away, revealing the blue ocean. He bit through the bar, and the let the sights outside grab his attention. At least for a second, he wasn't thinking about ways to escape the boat in case someone did find him.

As he stuffed the plastic wrapping back into the backpack, his eyes drew to the zipper attached to the biggest pocket. Sure, he had guns and weapons in there, but there was also that stained yellow file as well. He took it  for a reason. So, with probably nothing to do for the next day and a half, he suspiciously glanced around, and carefully unzipped the backpack. He slowly pulled out the file and drew his eyes again at the title.

_Project Freezer Burn_

Was he ready to see what was inside? Did he even know what could be inside? The best he knew about it was that it was a HYDRA file, nothing more. It could be simply just be about old, pointless interview. Or it could bring to light about the assassins, and how he was created in the first place.

He gave a deep, hesitant sigh, and cracked open the file.

He stared at the small, wrinkly old picture of James Buchanan Barnes, stapled in the corner. He had short slicked back hair under a crooked set cap. He had an almost cocky demeanor that breathed out of the photo, yet seemed approachable and down to earth. He wore a warm, crooked smile, that would light up any room he walked in, as well as charm the socks off of anyone too. It seemed like a guy who didn't know how to fight well but would damn well try with everything he had.

The larger picture displayed Barnes held down with long, thick leather belts on a metal table. He looked as though he went through a huge fight, judging from the bruises and scratches that covered his body. His once neat hair was frazzled, and sat in his pale face. His once shaved and confidant face started to grow stubble, and seemed scared, even if he was knocked out. Doctors and scientists around Barnes poked and touched him with deadly metal instruments, like some kind of sick experiment. But one man in a white coat caught Bucky's attention. This man was inserting some kind of needle into his arm, filled with a white, cloudy substance. He continued to read the report, in Russian of course.

_October 12th, 1943_

_*Subject was found after incident just outside sector 12, along with other accomplices. Subject was resistant to comply with demands of corporation during shipping time, but was solved through the means of making subject unconscious. Subject was identified as James Buchanan Barnes, from 107th division when subject was taken to experiment lab. Subject was still unconscious when body was delivered to lab, but was still tied down to prevent any damage to others as well as subject. Subject was injected with serum strain 7, as first trial. Noted that subject woke up and trashed about for means of escape. Subjected injected with anesthetic and ceased movement. Noted under anesthetic, subject talked on about a Steve Rogers, under the 107th infirmary in the American army. Further research will be taken in order advance and test subject in trial. Trial is currently being reorganized, as last subject failed to survive through extreme temperatures.*_

_He heard the bangs of machine guns and weapons fill his ear. Dust and dirt flew and coated his flushed face. He heard desperate yelling all around, and mix into the terror of the battle. Bucky only saw himself surrounded by other soldiers, whose faces were blurred out, as though someone smeared their faces out of his memory. Another soldier moved and bumped right next to him, and spoke a few words, yet the soldier failed to make any noise. It was like a mute button was placed on him, only letting his lips move._

_Suddenly screams of terror filled the night sky. Bucky held his gun tighter in the mix of fear and terror, truly not expecting what was next. Blurs of blue flew past him, engulfing other soldiers. Like a fatal disease, when these clouds of blue touched a soldier, they simply dissipated in the air. As the blue clouds swept past the men, they yelled out bloody murder, at least until the cloud consumed their body. He heard himself yelling at other of his comrades, his voice commanding them to get the hell out._

_His view suddenly faded from a chaotic battle field to a bright, shining light. He heard voices, speaking in a language he couldn't understand. As his sight became clearer, he realized he was surrounded by people in lab coats. Some wore masks over their faces, others a pair of goggles. He felt all their hands run all over his bruised body, as though they were searching for something. He felt a dull sting in his arm, and looked down to see a needle stabbed in his arm._

_Bucky in panic tried to jerk his arm away, but it was like his body wouldn't listen, his arm simply stayed put. He desperately jerked his body around, for escape, but he didn't feel or see his limp body move. His breaths became faster, deeper. His chest rose rapidly, causing him to sweat in his terror. He felt his tied down hands clench onto the frigid, cold metal table he was laid on. He felt screams and curse words escape his lips, until his throat felt like sandpaper. He yelled and yelled for anyone, for his life, until his voice became hoarse, and broken._

_From his blurred eyes, he saw one scientist in particular, emerge from the crowd. Instead of the blurred features the others hand, this one had a face as clear as day. He saw the scientist short and stocky built, with a small and slightly pudgy face. His large forehead reflected the bright light into Bucky’s eyes, causing him to squint. He saw his owl rimmed glasses, fit snug on his circle shaped head. He walked up with a sense of confidence that felt artificial, like he was trying his best to look tough. He wore a tight lipped expression on his face, as though he never had cracked a tiny smile on his face in his life. The scientist calmly walked up to Bucky, with his hands behind his back. With crazed look in his eye, he leaned in, only inches from the Winter Soldier's face, with a few words._

_“You, James Buchanan Barnes, will be the savior of our world”_

He realized he started to tightly clench on to the file, causing it to wrinkle in the corners. He immediately unclenched his hand, and saw that he wrinkled the small picture of Barnes. He realized his breaths were deep, and fast, as though he was running for his life. His hand twitched slightly, causing the file to shake in his hand.

In attempt to calm his nerves, he gently closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He felt his pulse slow to a steady beat, and his hand stop shaking. Although he wasn't exactly calm and cool, it was the best he was going to be. He glanced around suspiciously, trying to eye anyone who might have stared at him during his little flashback. But when he looked around, not one person bothered to pay attention to him, as though he didn't exist.

It was probably on of the first flashbacks had in awhile, at least since the first time he saw Steve. Usually his memories would simply pop in there, as though he unlocked a box that sat deep in the far corner of his mind. But he rarely got pictures that flashed through his head, or sounds, or even pain. Sure, he remembers the pain brought to his victims, but he can barely recall how he was created in the first place, let alone the rest of the Winter Soldiers. He remembered what they were, but he didn't remember who they were, as actual people, or as close as they were to people. Those memories didn't come as easily as the missions themselves.

He glanced back at the file in his hand, wondering if he was ready to go on to the next page. If he reacted like he did before on the first page, it was clearly going to get even worse. So, in a decision not to completely go insane in a small, cramped boat, he shoved the file back into his backpack and zipped it shut.

He calmed down a little, and brought his attention back to the small port hole. All he could see was the clear blue ocean, with not a land mass in the distance. The only way anyone was going to catch him now was if someone bombed the boat. And even then, Bucky’s Winter Soldier programming would kick and help him survive.

The Winter Soldier had a few benefits to help him live, but was clearly overshadowed by the murders done by his hand. Nothing would justify the Winter Soldier to be good, not even to the world, like HYDRA said he would be. The Soldier was a ruthless killing machine with dead cold eyes and a brain put into a blender. He was a weapon, and nothing more. 

After a few hours, the sun set, and was replaced with the glowing moon. Bucky, even with his training, could feel tiredness to go through his body. His tired, lazy eyes glanced around, to see people already asleep. They were either leaned onto the wall of the boat or awkwardly on their seat. In attempt for sleep, he leaned his head on his backpack and put his arm behind his head. His left empty sleeve simply hung off the seat and swung with the rock of the boat.

Like he was going to get any sleep tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's Bucky for you! What do you think of the fic so far? I would appreciate any constructive criticism or any other comments anyone has for this fic. Anyways, thanks for reading!


	5. Mad World

_All around me are familiar faces_   
_Worn out places, worn out faces_   
_Bright and early for their daily races_   
_Going nowhere, going nowhere_   
_Their tears are filling up their glasses_   
_No expression, no expression_   
_Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow_   
_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

-Mad World(Micheal Andrews)

* * *

 

_Northern California_

“Is that everything?”

Steve loaded up the last of the bags into the car.  He plopped the gym bag into the trunk, causing the car to bend a little at the weight. Most of the ex-avengers belongings were either tied up around the truck or stuffed inside with them. Weapons and other stuff in that matter were hidden under a thick tarp, to hide them from the outside world.

After a long discussion full off yelling and caffeine, Steve decided they would try to search for Bucky for at least a week or two before Stark got involved(mostly because Scott kept on badgering him not to talk to Tony). To the ex-avenger though, it felt like he was just a pawn in a waiting game. He knew he had a very small chance of finding the Winter Soldier himself, even with a few other allies. He's been through that already, before the split of the team. He just had to swallow what little pride he had and take a chance on Tony again, just to get Buck back. Steve believed, even if it seemed naive, that Stark could eventually see Bucky wasn't the issue, it was HYDRA. Or in the very least try not to rip his head off.

Wanda emerged from the house, with a small bag hung over her shoulder. The cool, soft wind blew through her hair and across her face. Halfway down the driveway, she stopped and turned to the decrepit house once again. Although she was only at the safe house for only months, small memories brought a grin to her face.

“I'm going to miss this place” Wanda said with a tight grin on her face. Her expression turned solemn, as her eyes glanced around the house. It was like she was mourning a loss, a death.

The ever so ‘insightful’ Scott noticed her gloomy presence and slowly walked up beside her, with his hands in his pockets “Hey, maybe at the end of all this, we'll come back” He replied, trying in his own way to comfort the young girl.

She replied with a dry chuckle, deprived of and humor or happiness “Wouldn't that be very nice, but that is not how it works anymore. We can't come back”  She sighed, and started to walk to the small car. She held on tighter to the strap of her bag, as though she was trying to hide her feelings. She knew well enough she couldn't come back to this small, lovely house, because if they did come back when everything was settled, she knew Ross would be there waiting for her, along with that straight jacket. A shiver went down her spine at the thought of even touching it.

“So, where are we heading?” Sam yelled out, as he stepped out of the house, with his arms tightly crossed.

Steve poked up his head from the car, and shrugged “To town first, then we'll see from there” He mentally made a list of food and other items he could easily buy in the small town close to the cabin. Sam nodded and headed towards the car, along with the others.

Steve drove the beaten up truck, with his ex-military friend riding shotgun. Brown dust trailed behind him as he tore through the dirt road. As he got further out from the cabin, the trees around him started to dwindle around him, and opened up to brown large fields and green meadows. The sky in front was an ominous dark blue, with puffy clouds that streaked along the sky.

A few conversations later, Steve made his way over a small hill, and peaked up to see the large spanning highway. It seemed to go on endlessly in either direction, without a destination. He glanced around the flat, open field that the highway sat on. A few cows roamed behind rusty barbed wire gates, either peacefully chewing on the grass or sitting down underneath a few lone trees. But before he drove down back to civilization, he pulled over behind the last hill facing the highway, to make one last announcement. As he turned off the ignition, he sighed, and turned to his team mates.

“Before we go, I want to make sure all of you are willing to do this. This isn't about the Avengers anymore, or the accords. This is about finding a lost friend who needs help, because people who think he's a criminal are after him. And their planning to make sure he's dead, and stays dead. This is in a sense...about me. If you're not willing to fight for this, I understand. I'll drop you off wherever you want, with a little money, and that will be that. Understand?”

Sam nodded, but stayed planted in his seat. Wanda started intensely into the ex-Avengers eyes, but immediately drew them to the head cushion, as though she was unsure. Scott on the other hand slammed his head into his seat cushion behind him, and gave out a loud sigh.

“Let me make a phone call…” Scott asked, as he dig through his pocket for a phone. Steve nodded, causing the Scott to open the car door and walk a fair distance from the car. As he dialed Pym’s number, he thought of his potential decisions. One one hand, he could try to go back home, or at least back to Hank and Hope, and hide out until things settled down with the accords. But it seemed risky, putting them in a position that even Hank’s money wouldn't buy them out of. If he was caught that would be the end of his free life, and the end of ever seeing his daughter’s bright smile. On the other hand, he could help Cap find Bucky, and stay under the radar, and have less of a chance of being caught. But, in reality, did he really care about finding Steve’s long lost friend? Like, care enough to take a bullet for him? He knew well enough he didn't feel entirely safe around him, or that Bucky even trusted him. He was simply an outsider to the group, an outsider Steve was desperately trying to include with everyone, but it was clear enough to Scott: Bucky wasn't worth it.

Only seconds later, Wanda slammed open the door and stomped away from the car too. She planted herself on a nearby rock and grabbed her forehead in frustration. She didn't have a clue in the world of what to do. She simply couldn't weigh out the options in her head. An unknown force seemed to fog up her mind.  So, she thought of her brother, her long dead brother Pietro. Sure, he could be obnoxious, and couldn't take much things seriously, and a pain in the ass, but he was always out there for her. He was there when their parents died. He was there when they went through years of experimentation. He was there when they fought side by side, back in Sokovia. But he was also there for the little people, the ones who didn't have a voice, the ones who couldn't protect themselves, the ones who were supposed to die. What would Pietro want her to do?

Steve still patiently waited in the car, glancing out to the highway. The smaller cars zoomed past his line of sight, running along the black pavement. Sam on the other hand relaxed a little, by putting down his seat, and sticking his arms behind his head. It was pretty much silence between the two ex-military men, other than the sound of cars running along the road.

“Are you staying or going?” Steve broke the silence, but his line of sight didn't change from the highway.

“I think you know the answer to that” Sam replied, glancing up to Cap. Of course he was staying with Steve. If Cap needed anything, he would be right behind him.

“You know, you don't have to stay only because-”

“I'm doing this cause a friend needs help, and I'm not talking about Barnes” Sam cut off, holding up his hand “And besides, it's not like I can go back to my apartment. They probably have it all covered with yellow tape and government agents”

The ex-Avenger turned to Sam, with furrowed brows “You sure you want this?”

Sam replied with a slight nod of the head “I’m sure, but are you?”

A look of confusion crossed Steve’s face. Why would he even ask that? Of course he would try to find Bucky. He would do the same thing for him, wouldn't he?

“Of course, he's my friend...” He replied with a tinge of frustration in his voice, which Sam picked up on.

“I just wanna make sure”

“Why do you ask?” Steve asked, with a sense of curiosity. Sam sighed, leaving an awkward pause between the two.

“I wanna make sure you know which Barnes you're looking for. Because the Barnes you're looking for, might not be the one you find”

Sam looked directly into Steve's eyes. For a split second, he saw a look of doubt fill his blue eyes, and disappointment, as though Sam said the unspoken truth. He quickly washed it away, and replaced with with a cold stare. Before Steve could reply though, the car door swift opened, and Scott jumped back inside.

“I think I'm gonna go back to San Francisco, to Pym. It's only a couple of hours from here, so feel free to drop me off at town or near Frisco” He said, as he buckled himself in, oblivious to the tension in the car. Steve nodded, and glanced at Wanda. She still sat on her rock, letting the breezy wind cover her expression. It was clear to him they were going to be here for a while, or so he thought.

He was going to find Bucky again, no matter what. But that question stung in his head. He was certain he was looking for his long lost friend, James Buchanan Barnes, the guy who was there when his mother died. The guy that took care of him as though they were brothers when he caught a cold. The guy who fought beside him in countless battles, like it was his last. And one day, it nearly was. Steve knew Bucky wasn't exactly the Bucky Barnes he knew from Brooklyn, but he was hopeful. He was hopeful that when he found Buck, he would slowly regain his memory and eventually have that charming guy he grew up with, or something close to it. He knew that Buck he'd known most of his life was still deep inside the ex-Winter Soldier. He was certain that Bucky was the one he was looking for was simply broken. And broken things could be repaired.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the door slammed shut. His eyes glanced to Wanda, quietly buckling herself back in. Her expression was stone cold, not at all revealing her decision. She simply sat uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes drawing to the head of the seat cushion.

“Wanda?” Steve asked, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Her cold eyes drew to Steve’s, without moving her head an inch. Then she leaned back and settled in her seat.

“I'm staying” She replied in a monotone voice. Steve slightly nodded, then revved up the engine of the truck again. It took a couple of tries until the truck sputtered to life. He held his hands tightly on the rim of the wheel, making small indents in the beaten up leather from his fingers.

“I'll drop you off near the city, and give you enough money to get a taxi” Steve said in a monotone tone, as he steered the car back onto the dirt road.

“And Sam” Sam turned his head towards Steve, waiting for a response “I know what I'm doing”

* * *

Steve picked up a can of green beans off the shelf, and brought it close to his line of sight. His fingers twisted the can, looking for a price tag of some kind. With no tag, he sighed and stuck the can back on the shelf. His blue eyes were hidden under a red baseball cap, peering around for anyone who seemed suspicious to him. Basically anyone who would call and turn him in. There were a few people who strolled down the aisles, mostly elderly people who just wanted to get their grocery shopping done. The general store in the small city was the only place where citizens could buy bread and horse feed all under the same roof, so it was the most popular place for residents to go. Steve’s been in the store a few times, even talked to a few people as well, but no one was suspicious of him at all. To others, he's just a lonesome farmer.

He turned his shopping cart around and made his way down the aisle. The cart was simply just a moving mountain of cans and other supplies. If one more can was added to the already full pile, it would fall apart. Steve pushed down the cart as he glanced at the cans of food to his side, examining the prices.

Oblivious of another shopper in front, Steve crashed into another shopping cart, causing the shopper to fall to the floor. Steve didn't realize his mistake only until he heard a shrill shriek, as well as the sounds of cans falling to the floor. His head jerked to the side, his eyes filled with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. He ran to a young woman who was pushed to the ground, surrounded by rolling cans of food.

“Are you okay?” Steve apologized, as he bent down and stuck his hand out to help the lady off the floor. She had fair, light colored skin with light freckles that were lightly specked on her nose. Her almond shaped eyes brightened up the clear green that sat inside her iris’. She wavy shoulder length chestnut hair, with blunt cut bangs that sat in straight line just above her eyebrows. Her thin frame was covered by a white tank top, with dark wash skinny jeans that hugged her legs. Her brown leather boots sat loosely just below her knees, yet maintained its shape. Her attire was topped with a silk red scarf that was tightly wrapped around her neck, at the verge of choking her delicate neck.

The woman shot Steve a cold expression, and shoved his hand aside. As she lifted herself from the floor, he picked up a few loose items that fell out of her hand and held them for the woman.

“Thank you…” She replied in a thick French accent, then snatched the groceries from his hand, as though he was going to run off with them. As she walked off, she titled her head to the ground, with her groceries in hand. She twisted her head one more time to get one final look at Steve. This time her face was full of suspicion, and anxiety. She started to speed walk as fast as she could, until she was out of sight.

Steve immediately felt his stomach drop. If it was one thing he could count on, that woman was probably on her phone calling to report him. His jaw clenched, and his blue eyes glanced around the empty aisles, in search of his friends. Ditching the shopping cart, he jogged down the aisles and peaked his head through it. He caught Sam looking what seemed to be the auto aisle, with a bottle of oil in his hand.

“Sam,” He jerked his head to Steve, and recognized a nervous look on his face “We need to go. Now” Steve slightly nodded his head towards the aisle, and pointed in back of himself.

Sam tossed the bottle of oil back on the shelf, and jogged straight to Cap “What happened?” He replied in a steel-cut tone.

“No time to explain. I'll get Wanda, you deal with Scott” Sam nodded, and both men split off. Steve went through a couple of aisles, until he saw a recognizable dark red cap, that sat above long silky brown hair. Wanda had her back to Steve, looking at the rows of spices. Oblivious of Cap’s presence, she examined a glass bottle of paprika, for a recipe she wanted to try. Steve jogged up to her, and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. The young brown haired girl’s shoulders twisted in surprise, causing her to drop the bottle to the floor. The glass exploded at contact with the linoleum floor, creating a mess of glass and the red spice to be scattered below her feet. Suddenly, her hands became wrapped within a fog of her power, and pushed her power towards Steve. Before he could react, his waist was swallowed in the red fog, and shoved him into the shelf, knocking down random boxes. Wanda jerked her head towards her perpetrator, and gasped when she realized she chucked Steve into the shelf.

“I-I'm sorry…” Wanda stumbled, as she lifted her hand up to her face in shock “I d-didn't mean-I ha-”

“You can apologize later” Steve replied in a monotone tone, as he lifted himself out of a small dent he created, leaving behind twisted metal and crushed boxes and cans “We just need to go”

Wanda nodded, and started to jog along with Steve. She didn't bother to take care of the mess she created, in terms of the broken glass bottle.

“Did Ross find us?” She asked, glancing to Steve.

“He will if we don't get to the truck soon”

They made a corner, and saw the exit of the small store, with Sam and Scott waiting along. Well, at least Sam. Scott on the other hand, held what seemed like an endless assortment of grocery bags, and dragged them along the floor. Sam, trying to get the hell out, yelled at him in frustration, trying to get him to ditch the bags.

“No way!” Scott yelled “I spent the rest of the money I have left, and I'm not just gonna leave them behind!”

Sam replied with an exasperated sigh, and held his forehead in anger “Scott, just ditch the damn bags, we don't have time for this crap”

Steve basically rolled his eyes in his thoughts. How he always had to deal with Scott. He jogged to Scott, and hooked on to his arm. Scott was forced to let go of the bags, as he was yanked out of the store.

“Cap, Cap...wait..” Scott pleaded, as he was helplessly dragged out. He knew even if he tried to struggle out, he would be no match for the super soldier. He was pretty sure Steve could snap his body like a twig, if he really wanted to.

“Scott…” Steve sighed, as though he was reprimanding his own kid. He slammed open the door, and suddenly heard the cocking of guns. He froze.

He slowly glanced up to see at least 30 men, dressed in black bulletproof uniforms, with the national guard logo in the middle of their chests. They surrounded the small general store, like a long wall, with shotguns pointed right at the star-spangled man's chest. Their massive, black trucks sat in back of them, filled with even more men and guns. Bystanders were shoved away by other soldiers, either by shoving them or yelling forcefully. Most of them had an ‘o’ so surprise written on their faces, at all the complete chaos. Steve, still calm, slowly unclenched his hand from Scott’s arm, and raised his arms up in surrender. He wasn't going to punch himself out of this that easily.

“Steven Rogers, put your hands where I can see them!” A soldier commanded from the wall of men. As Wanda and Sam exited the small store, the men brought their guns closer to the crook of their arms, ready to fire. Sam immediately shot his arm out towards the frightened young brown haired girl, as though his arm would actually protect her from bullets. She stumbled back in fear, causing her to trip on the mangled wooden floor. This only caused the soldiers to lay their fingers on the trigger on their rifles, in defense. It was clear with one wrong move, bullets were going to fly.

“All of you, get down on the ground now!” The lead soldier yelled once more, but with a new feeling of confidence that surrounded him. Sam sighed, and he bent down to the wooden platform the store sat on, with his hands up in the air, like he did so a million times before. Scott replied with a face of disappointment, and soon did the same, because it was in fact routine for him to get arrested. Wanda and Steve reluctantly followed, slowly bending down and lifting their hands in surrender. The Captain's eyes were bent down in guilt. He felt that deep down, he caused his, all of this. And it could have been avoided.

Wanda nervously glanced at the soldiers, and the air of anxiety and nervousness that seemed to surrounded them. She noticed that some of the men’s eyes twitched, as well as the guns in their hands. It was like they knew all,of this was coming

“I didn't know the government would react so quickly” She whispered.

The former soldier shrugged. Sam was pretty well informed with the government and their ways, considering he worked for them. But this feeling of uncertainty weighted down on his stomach. It was kind of odd, that only minutes after Steve forced them out of the store, the government’s lackeys would already be in the town, in formation, with trucks, and massive guns. It was like they were expecting them for a long time. He also took notice on the symbol on their uniforms. It seemed a little odd to him, that these men dressed in black, instead of the regular army uniform soldiers would normally wear in a time like this. Then the pieces started to click on his head, and brought him to a realization.

“They don't” Sam whispered forcefully back, in realization. If these weren't the government’s people, who were they?

Scott gave a loud groan, and rolled his eyes, ignoring the Falcon’s comment. Getting arrested was a little too routine for him, so he wanted a quick way out, and escape. A thought popped in his head, and glanced at the white pickup truck they rode in. It still sat in the small lot in the corner of the store and was entirely untouched by the men. If he could find a way to get there, he could simply slip on his suit and make a break for it.

“You know, it would be kinda helpful if we had our stuff..” Scott thought out loud.

“Scott…” Steve sighed again. If he could, the blond man would have rubbed his temples in disappointment and frustration. He would have, if he wasn't close to being made to Swiss cheese by the so called soldiers. But this planted an idea in the young girl. She smirked.

Her eyes turned as bright as rubies, and her hands became swallowed in a sea of dark red. She slowly lifted her hands higher to the sky, and suddenly, jerked back, as though she was pulling a rope. Out of nowhere, the white pickup truck came hurling towards the four, flying through the sky. The truck slammed into the ground, and shredded though the line of soldiers. A few lucky men dived out of the way before the truck plowed through the group of soldiers. The others however weren't as lucky. Some flew through the air like pathetic birds, as skidded across the asphalt, others were crushed by the tires at it barreled over them, and became human roadkill. Before the was about to slam into the four and make 2-D splatter art out of them, Wanda swung her fingers around delicately to her side, causing the truck to swing to its side, and skid to a stop only feet away from their feet.

“...Okay…” Scott twisted his head a little, and nodded as he justified this in his head “That works too…”

Suddenly, Steve unexpected tightly grabbed Wanda's shoulders and brought her closer to his angry expression “Wanda, don't do that again!” He said in a cold, icy tone “You just comprised all of us”

With that, a rain of bullets penetrated the car, leaving behind dozens of holes. Steve dived down behind the car, with Wanda still tight in his hands. Sam and Scott jerked themselves behind the car, as glass from the window exploded and rained on their heads. The captain unclenched his grip from the young brown haired girl, and peaked his head from his shelter. He caught a glance of the men slowly crawling closer to the car, with a few soldiers scattered on the pavement still unconscious from the flying truck. As he was about to lean in further, a bullet made him recoil back to safety.

“Cap, got a plan?” Sam yelled through the chaos of smashing glass and bullets.

“Yeah, a plan would be very nice right about now!” Scott added in, as he reluctantly poked his head up above the broken window. He just saw utter chaos. Citizens were screaming a yelling for their lives. The soldiers stomped closer and closer every time they pulled the trigger and let a bullet escape from their death machines. Glass, metal, rocks flew everywhere, creating a scene similar to what Scott would say is a battlefield. Except for the fact the only time he's actually been to war was at an airport.

Suddenly, like a wave, the bullets and sound of gun shots ceased. A thick fog of uncertainty and danger filled the silent air. Steve, reluctant to even peek his head from safety, did so anyways for the safety of the team. The soldiers held their guns down, and were lined up at the other edge of the street. The bodies that laid on the floor were gone, as though they evaporated into thin air. The streets were quiet and empty, leaving, creating an eerie atmosphere that didn't sit right with any of the ex-Avengers.

That same woman however, from the general store Steve “bumped” into, sat in front of the thick line of soldiers. She had an odd sense of both confidence and fear that radiated off of her, sending a mixed signal to Steve as he tried to analyze the threat level in his head. Instead of her light, casual clothing, it was replaced with a tight v-neck grey t-shirt below a black vest littered with pockets. Black cargo pants loosely ran down her legs, but still exposed her black commando boots that stretched to her ankles. In her dark red fingerless gloves, sat a long metal tube, with a massive end. A grenade launcher, Steve recognized, meant for him as his friends.

“Wanda, get ready” Steve commanded, as the woman lifted it up, and aimed it at the truck. Her face nearly rubbed against the tube of the weapon, as her cold, dead eyes aimed at it's target.

“But Steve-” Wanda's eyes widened in fear. She didn't have to see what was coming, she knew the terror that was about to fly to her face.

Steve’s glance softened, and his voice became a slight purr, trying to relax the frightened young girl “You can do it, you'll be fine”

With the pull off the trigger, the woman sent the deadly explosive straight into the truck. Within a blink of an eye, flames engulfed the truck, billowing into the air and crawling outwards. The red hot fire melted what was left of the glass, and absolutely destroyed anything within feet of it. The once quaint general store was nothing more than a part of the fire, obliterating it from the face of the earth.

As the flames started to settle, the woman pulled her massive weapon down, and held it out, for a soldier to grab. A soldier took the gun swiftly and placed a thick, long knife with a black grip in her hand. She twisted it delicately in her hand, the shiny, sharp end just barely scraping against her light skin. She walked over to the settled flames, with a swagger of confidence. A wave of heat radiated from the wreck, but the woman didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, it brought a hint of a smile to her lips, at least until she got a closer look. All that was left of the truck was burnt, twisted metal with flames that billowed out from the frame of it. But there were no signs of the ex-Avengers, not even a limp, charred body. The woman however refused to act with the slightest of emotion, she simply had that icy cold look that seemed to be first nature to her.

She turned around, and pointed her sinister blade to the army of men “продолжай искать. Выстрел никого на месте” She glared at the men, with her cold, green eyes “Теперь!” The soldiers responded with a salute, and started to diverge from their group, in search of the four vigilantes.

Without warning, a few soldiers were suddenly jerked into the air, and floated right above a few awe struck soldiers. Around their body, a light red fog crawled around their waists, only lifting them higher into the atmosphere. As sudden as they were lifted, they came hurdling down at other soldiers in the line, and slammed down into them like a meteor. Some men yelled as they were slammed into the ground by the others, creating a pile of bodies.

Wanda and Steve emerged from behind the exploding flames, the huge wave heat radiating on their faces. The young sorceress slowly tip toed her way to the front of the billowing flames, as she shoved men away with her powerful sorcery. Steve stood near the back of the massive fire, keeping a watchful eye all around his surroundings.

“It wouldn't hurt you to pick up the pace a little!” Steve shouted through the roar of the flames, as Sam and Scott frantically tried to suit up under the cover of the fire.  
  
"It's not like I put this thing on everyday!" Scott snapped, wiggling into his suit. It looked like he was a fat worm trying to squeeze itself into a tiny tube, as he wiggled about on the ground.   
  
"On your 6 Cap!" Sam yelled, as he clipped on his on his massive wings onto his shoulders.   
  
The captain jerked his head around to see one of the beefier soldiers with a small pistol in his hands. Steve dived under the bullets that escaped the gun, and lunged into the soldiers knees. They both crashed into the pavement, causing the soldier to let go of his weapon. Steve made a barrel roll over the fallen soldier and jumped back to his feet, his fists ready for combat. The soldier planted his hands on the ground and wiggled his body back on his feet. He lunged at Steve with an angry fist, only to see it be blocked by the captains forearm. He quickly knelt down and made a sweep kick along the ground, literally sweeping Steve from his feet. Steve crashed to the ground, but also swung his feet across the floor, making the soldier slam head first into the pavement. A little dazed, the soldier wearily lifted his throbbing head, trying to focus his eyes on his target. Suddenly, his head jerked back, and he went limp.  Steve heard a small click, causing Scott to enlarge and pop in over the fallen ex-soldier in his Ant-Man uniform   
  
Scott bent down and held his hand for Steve "So, Captain, how well did I do?" He asked with a hint of hope in his voice, as he kind of lifted him off the ground.   
  
"Start taking down the soldiers with Sam" Cap commanded, as he started to run to the battlefield.   
  
"Come on! On a scale of 1 to 10, how well did I save your ass?" Scott shouted. Realizing that Steve wasn't going to answer, he lazily let his arms fall to his sides, and shook his head in utter disappointment.   
  
Sam dived in at a wall of soldiers, as they shot their guns at him. He weaved his way through the bullets, and made a drop kick in the air, slamming into the heads on the soldiers. He shot back up into the sky, and slowly descended back into the battle. From the high above, he saw the female assassin strutting her way towards Wanda, with that sinister blade in hand. He immediately tucked in his metallic wings and dived into the street once more. The woman only caught a glance of the Falcon, before she was swept from her feet and kicked in the stomach. Her body flew in the air and  slammed into a black truck, creating a small dent that was shaped around her body. Yet, she failed to show any kind of reaction cross her face, as though she didn't realize she was in pain at all. She simply popped herself off the military vehicle, and hooked her knife back on to her belt.   
  
Sam banked around the tall flames, and darted at the woman yet again. As he flew in closer, the woman started to walk, then jog, and turned into a full on run. Right before the wings of his suit were about to slice off her head, she tucked herself in a ball and rolled under the Falcon. She suddenly clamped on to his leg, and was taken into the sky along with him. Sam struggled to shake her off, making sharp turns, bank maneuvers, but it was like the assassin was made of Velcro. She whipped out her blade once more, and rammed it into the Falcon’s wings. The Metallic wing twitched under the attack, before it simply gave up and became dead weight. As they both fell from the sky, the woman let go of his leg, and flipped in the air, waiting to land. Her legs slammed into the ground, before she tucked herself into a ball and rolled back to her feet.

  
Sam tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over again over his wings and backpack. Pieces of metal followed behind him, making a path of shards that littered the ground. He slammed into the tires of one of the black trucks, stopping his rolling. He grimaced as he heard what sounded like a sickening crack, followed by a huge sting of pain in his shoulder.   
  
Sam groaned as he slowly rolled over on his shoulder, to face the battle. He saw the huge bonfire in the background, reaching high to the sky. Citizens screamed and ran for their lives, as metal and glass were thrown their way. Soldiers fell to the ground and crumpled like paper as punches and kicks were thrown to them. Near one of the other trucks, he saw the female assassin grabbing another knife from the small storage area that was attached to the military vehicle. She pulled down a large looking knife, with a scary curved edge.   
  
A few other soldiers popped out from the truck, with more guns and weapons. They stood closely behind the assassin, as though they were waiting for orders.   
  
She slightly turned her head, letting her long hair cover her delicate face "убить остальных” She twisted her hard to the blond man, kicking a soldier. She let her green eyes pierce into his bright blue eyes.

 

“я хочу его”

 

The female assassin hips swung slightly side to side with every click her boots made on the concrete. Her eyes locked on to her new target, causing her to squeeze onto the handle of her knife even tighter. Her mission was simple: fight.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the red sea of energy pulsate of of the young sorceresses hands. Wanda delicately twisted her fingers around, sweeping soldiers off their feet. Her eyes glanced at the woman who strolled her way on over to Steve, and noticed the sinister blade in her hand. Before Wanda could react, do anything, the woman whipped out a small pistol, and swung her arm at Wanda. Without even so much as a twitch of her eye, she pulled the trigger and released a small, long needle that struck Wanda's forehead. She let out a scream of pain as electricity swept through her body, emitting from the needle. Tears streamed down from her eyes, as her body crumpled like paper to the ground. She clamped onto her head and rolled herself into a ball, wishing she could just die and end all the pain.   
  
The assassin tossed the gun to the ground, as the young brown haired girl screamed bloody murder. The assassin took pride in this, and let a small grin turn the corner of her mouth. Pain, misery, death; it only motivated her actions.   
  
Suddenly, she felt a strong, unbearable force that caused her to fall back and slam down on the ground. That small smile washed away from her face, and turned into a death glare. She quickly jumped back to her feet, and grabbed for her knife. But when she reached down for it, her fingers only felt the fabric of her hands and her vest. She tilted her head up to see Scott, playfully swinging the knife in his hand.   
  
"This looks a little lethal...don't you think?" Scott replied in his ever so optimistic attitude, as his eyes anxiously started at the blade of the knife.   
  
"Is that not the point?" The assassin replied in that thick French accent, with a sinister grin, and let her head hang playfully on the side. With that, she pulled out a smaller knife from her vest, and casually made her way to Scott. Scott's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He tossed the knife away, and hung his finger over the trigger of his suit.   
  
"I, uh...don't wanna hurt you...so if you could put THAT down..." Scott reluctantly said, his eyes glancing at her new blade. Like she was set off, she lunged at Scott, with her hands tight around the grip of her knife. The Ant transformed, and ran up her leather fingerless gloves. He jumped up, and rolled his body in mid air. As he latched onto her thumb, he blew back up to normal size and caused the assassin to fly into the air, and let go of her knife once more. She made a flawless flip in the air, and landed on her hand and feet. Slowly standing up, she pulled yet another knife from her vest.   
  
"How many fucking knifes do you even have?!" Scott exclaimed. The woman didn't answer, and simply made her way back into battle. Scott replied with an exasperated sigh, and turned small once more. The assassin suddenly halted, and stood still. She let the sounds of the battle surround her ears, and the sight of fire engulfed her eyes. She suddenly twisted her fist to the side, forcing Scott to transform back to normal, and slam his head into a nearby tree. The helmet did little nothing to stop the impact, and caused him to go limp and unconscious.   
  
The assassin picked up her original knife that Scott chucked from the ground and focused back onto her mission. Her mission was currently clocking as soldier in the face, causing the soldier unnaturally twist his head to the side and crumple to the floor. Steve lifted his eyes, and glared at the woman who simply stepped over the limp body he left. The female carefully examined her target, slightly tilting her head and twisting the knife in her hand. Steve shot her a deep seeded glare, trying to pierce through her eyes and see the person underneath. But her bright green iris’ failed to show emotion, let alone life.

She suddenly lunged at Steve, letting him barely anytime to react. As he tried to twist his body out of the way, the knife cut through his arm like butter, causing thick blood to splatter on the knife. He hissed in pain and pulled his arm away in defense, trying examine his injury. But his training told him different. It told him to ignore the pain, and fight like it was your last.

The assassin twisted her hand and stabbed her knife towards his ash caked face. He blocked the attack with both of his arms and latched onto her arms, squeezing them tight. She slightly bent down, then jumped high in the air, twisting her body above Steve. She held her legs together tightly as she spiraled through the air, forcing Steve to let go of his grip and slam into the pavement. The woman skidded across the pavement, as her knife was dragged along, embedded in the ground. She lept into the air and dived into the captain once more, aiming at his unprotected chest.

Steve nearly got to his feet, and delivered a swift kick to her stomach mid air. She flew high in the air and skidded to a stop across the pavement on her shoulder. She got to her feet little slower, but failed to show any sign of pain that Steve would recognize.

She lightly touched her skin, and felt a hint of a scratch across her face. She barely glanced at her now blood stained fingers, and how the dark red liquid rolled down her hands. Her eyes shot a ominous glare at Steve, as though she was about to go rouge.

Something about her so called mission seemed all too familiar. The way he stared intently into the distance with his baby blue eyes seemed all too real. The way he walked around with an air of authority and confidence seemed all too recognizable. The way he snarled while landing a punch on someone seemed...like someone she met. Her mind was bombarded with the sound of laughter, and the image of a man with short, blond hair, baby blue eyes, and a warm smile. Wearing a thick, faded blue helmet with an A in the middle of it.

Her stone cold expression melted into confusion, and conflict. Her mouth slightly opened, was though she was trying to soak, but words failed to escape. Her green eyes lit up in surprise, washing away anything that made her look like a fatal killer, into an innocent young woman. Her grip loosened on the knife, her fingers twitching ever so softly, ready to drop the weapon. She basically looked like a lost puppy, and had no idea what to do next.

“S-Steve?” She croaked, trying to swallow a lump in her throat. Steve shot her a look so suspicion. Did she meet this woman before? He tried to examine her features, her body, her eyes, but nothing seemed to ring a bell in his head. He squinted his eyes and thought hard about anything that would jog his memory, but nothing came.

“What's your name?” The Captain asked, slowly choosing his words. She furrowed her brows, and lifted her eyes to the ground, staring blankly at her shoes. It was like she didn't have a name. Or simply couldn't remember, like a piece of her mind was missing. Seconds, later, her head slowly lifted up. Her lost, hopeless expression morphed back into the stone cold and ruthless face she wore before.  She swung her knife threateningly back in front of her, not for an attack, but for protection.

“I am Crimson” She growled, setting her brow far in front of her brilliant green eyes. She let out a snarl, and hung her knife far over her head, ready to stab the life out of Steve. Suddenly, a thick chunk of pavement hurled towards her head and smacked her on the side of the face. A sickening crack escaped from her face, as the rock exploded into small pieces, scattering all around her limp body. She lazily fell to her knees, her eyes rolling back into her small head, and crumpled to the ground like paper.

Steve blinked in utter surprise. He expected a fight at least, not rocks falling from the sky. He glanced to his side, to see Sam limping a little, as he supported Wanda on his unhurt shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto her temple in throbbing pain. Scott emerged soon after, wearily stumbling around the wreckage they and the soldiers left behind, with his worn helmet tucked under his arm. His tired eyes widened at the sight of the terrifying female assassin’, Crimson’s limp body. A small pool of thick hot blood formed around her, spilling out from her head. Under her unconsciousness, she had shallow, ragged breaths, barely keeping her alive.

“Is everyone alright?” Steve asked, as he lifted the dazed Wanda from Sam shoulder and supported her. Sam hissed in as a sharp pain escaped his shoulder as he tried to roll it.

“I _will_ be…” Sam replied in a dry voice “But nothing I can't handle”

The sound of sirens filled the thick, ash filled air. The four reluctantly turned to see actual cop cars emerge from the thick ashes, their lights bouncing off the wall of black ash. Steve and Sam turned to each other, and nodded. It was time to get out, and fast.

“If _that's_ going to follow me back to San Francisco” Scott pointed to the limp bodies of the soldiers, and the assassin “I'm staying with you”

“You sure that's the best idea?” Steve asked, raising his brow.

“Yeah. I’m sure Hank won't like it if I bring an assassin to his door”

Steve slightly shrugged, and started to limp off, with Wanda slung over his shoulder. As he stumbled off, a million questions popped in his head. Who were these guys? Where did they even come from? What was with the girl? And why did it seem like she already knew him? But of course, Steve knew no matter how many questions ran through his mind, only few would be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's our first Winter Soldier! Just as a note as well, the Crimson Soldier is NOT mine. It's another person's OC, but I got permission to use her. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Postcards From Italy

_The times we had_  
_Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow_  
_Were not all bad_  
_We put our feet just where they had, had to go_  
_Never to go_

-Postcards From Italy(Beirut)

* * *

 

_Wakanda_

T’Challa and Bruce flew back to the center of Wakanda, within hours of the invasion. With the compound basically trashed, and Bucky missing, their wasn't much of a reason to stay. Besides, the technology was better at the Wakandan Towers, a tall skyscraper that sat in the middle of the city. They could easily track down the Winter Soldier that way.

The scientist sat at a table nestled in the corner, searching on a beefy computer for the assassin, while the young king drew his attention to the largest monitor, in search of the Winter Soldier himself. He only found the news reels and a few photos from a few months ago, but not much else. The occasional photo of Sergeant Barnes and the rest of the howling commandos would pass by the screen, and their ever so confident demeanor. It was always a wonder to T’Challa how such a confidant man full of life could make a complete 360 on his personality. But then again, that was exactly what happened to him when T’Chaka died.

“Anything on Barnes yet?” Bruce asked, with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Not so far ” T’Challa responded in an even tone “What about the assassin?”

Bruce shook his head “No, nothing yet” He didn't know where to start his search for the assassin anyways. He could of been hired by Ross for all he knew, or even Tony. Or could have just worked alone and really had a vengeance against the Winter Soldier. But how could they have found out where the compound was? Let alone that Bucky was there?

“It's kind of frustrating to be going off of little to nothing. We didn't even get a good look at his face with that mask on” Bruce whined, but had a point. The color of the assassin eyes and his hair wasn't going to get them very far, T'Challa knew that.

He sighed, and brought his attention back to the screen. As pictures flew into his sight, one in particular caught his eye. Curious, he narrowed his brow and swiped his hand across the screen, enlarging the photo of his choice. It was the Winter Soldier, on what looked like a highway. He wore his classic and tarnished leather uniform with massive gun in one hand, ready for combat. His gun peered over the edge of the highway, shooting at something out of view. T’Challa could make out some kind of black mask that sat on Bucky's face, only exposing his steel blue eyes. Like the assassin wore. Putting one and two together, a revelation came over the young king.

“Try to search for HYDRA” T’Challa asked Bruce, causing the scientist to raise his brow, considering, at least to Bruce, that came out of nowhere. T’Challa nodded in response, as to signal it was the right action to take.

"Ok..." Bruce responded in uncertainty, but searched anyways. When he clicked the mouse for his search, his eyes widened in surprise. It meant to T'Challa at least he actually found something useful.

"What did you find?" The young king asked, his face full of curiosity.

"It's-" Suddenly, a electronic ringtone sliced through the air, causing Bruce to jump in his seat a little in surprise. A look of confusion crossed T'Challa's face when Bruce attempted to dig out the source of the noise from his pant pocket.

"Give me a minute..." Bruce muttered as he pulled out a small, old flip phone, only to drop it on the floor in his scattered set of mind. When he picked it up however, the color from his face seemed to drain away.

"I-it's Tony" He said with a nervous edge to his voice, without a clue of what to do. As far as Tony knows, Bruce supposed to be in India, not helping Bucky. If Tony knew that Bruce was associating with the Winter Soldier, he would certainly find a way to kill him. Then bring him back to life and kill him again. This is why Bruce was never good under any sort of pressure.

"What should I tell him? Should I tell him I'm here or- should I even tell him I'm with you? Can't he track calls or something?"

"No, no" T'Challa quickly walked over to the freaked out scientist and glanced at the number on the phone. Sure enough, it was Stark's number, along with a small picture on Iron man set as the profile picture.

"Do not bring up Barnes, we cannot let him know" He warned.

Bruce sighed as he glanced over the picture of Iron Man on his phone. Since stalling was only going to prolong his anxiety, he opened the phone and clicked the answer button. He hoped he could come up with things on the fly, but that's like asking him to spend a day with Loki trapped in an elevator, without going green.

"Uhhh....Tony?" Bruce practically slapped himself. He knew he sounded nervous over the phone, he could hear his anxiety clearly.

"Hey Brucie" Tony greeted in his ever so slick tone "How you doing?"

"Good, I guess.." The scientist slipped off his glasses and set them aside "You?"

"Eh, could be better. Speaking of which, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure..."

"Can you play therapist again?" The billionaire asked "There's a lot of stuff I wanna get off my chest, you know, about Pepper, Avengers, stuff like that"

Bruce let out a huge groan, remembering last time he "played" therapist. Half the time, he tried to tune out Tony's rambling from his head. It was like the billionaire's cocky voice was stuck in his head even months after the little session, like that annoying song he couldn't bang out of his head. The other half wanted to wring Tony's neck and tell him to shut the hell up. He was even sure he didn't needed to turn into the Hulk to do that. It was a complete wonder to him how he never even lost it and turned green.

"Oh god Tony, not again..." Bruce complained, rubbing his temples "I already told you, I'm not that kind of doctor"

"You did ok the last time, you didn't turn into big, green and angry"

"I was close though, 3 times or more"

"Come on Banner" Bruce could basically hear Tony rolling his eyes through the phone "Is it that you can't do it because of your temper tantrums?"

"No, it's that I-I just don't care" Bruce said frankly. He heard about probably 6 hours worth of the reasons Tony didn't like his father, only on his petty reasons. His capacity for care for Stark was pretty much spit on then flushed down the toilet.

"Well that hurt" Tony responded, but in a pretty much even tone, signaling sarcasm "I thought being the smart ones here and all we'd be pretty close"

"Yeah, and I'm being exceptionally brilliant not to accept your offer" There was a small pause after Bruce, but with Tony on the line, that wouldn't happen for very long.

"Well, I tried" Tony responded "And by the way, how's Wakanda? Didn't know you left...wherever you hid out”

Bruce shot T’Challa a look that said what the hell do I tell him? Along with desperately waving his hands around. He mouthed a few words to T’Challa, in hopes he would snatch the phone out of his hand. Instead, he calmly shook his head, and intensely stared into Bruce's eyes. In other words, he wasn't going to take over the call.

“Ummm...well….you see…” The nervous scientist rubbed his fingers through his curly hair, trying to come up with some excuse. Maybe he could just tell him he needed a job or something...

“You know what, I'll just call to the main frame"

The call suddenly cut off, causing Bruce to anxiously look around. He looks to T'Challa for an answer of what the heck to do, but he was as confused as he was. But with quick thinking, he tabbed out of the Winter Soldier files right before Tony's face emerged on the monitor screen.

The young king had a glimmer of surprise crossed his face at the sight of Tony basically hacking into the mainframe within seconds, but quickly washed away.

Stark stood up in front of his own computer, with the grey walls of the Avengers compound right behind him. The large, thin windows let in soft sunlight that reasonably lit up the room. In one hand, he had a white ceramic coffee cup labeled I heart me, and was probably filled with the most expensive coffee he could get his hands on, but would only have a sip of two of it before he chucked it.

"Anyways, how's your trip along with cat man?" Tony asked, addressing T'Challa with raising his mug "Your highness"

"Mr. Stark" The young king greeted, replying with a slight nod of his head.

"Good, I suppose" Banner shrugged, not wanting to give much more. He tried to hide his nervous ticks from Tony, by stuffing his hands in his pockets and making an effort to have eye contact.

"And you're with him because?" Tony asked, pointing to T'Challa. In an attempt to come up with excuses on the fly, Bruce opened his mouth for a response, but immediately shut it when the calm and collected young king took over.

"Dr. Banner came to me, to develop his research on infectious diseases. Isn't that right?" T'Challa turned to Banner, with a look that slightly gave peace to the scientist.

"Yeah, t-that's right" He agreed, nodding his head.

"Really?" Tony replied, almost sounding interested "On what?"

"I'm doing a study on...Mosquito borne illnesses" Bruce replied, causing the billionaire's face to go from slight interest to utter disappointment. He was expecting something interesting, considering Banner was in India. But it at least tore any other possibility Bruce and T'Challa were doing anything else.

Tony sighed "Since we got small talk out of the way, I still want you as my therapist Banner"

"Tony..." Bruce whined as though he was reprimanding a child. A child who could probably buy out all of American weapons and blow them up like fireworks, without a sweat.

Suddenly, Vision emerged from the wall, with a thick book in his hand. He slowly made his way across the screen, peering down at his chapter in Pride and Prejudice. He wore a simple sweater vest over a white dress shirt, which made Bruce raise a brow, considering he never saw Vision, well in normal clothes. Vision’s eyes briefly lifted from his book, then closed it.

“Hello again, Dr. Banner” He greeted, in a calm, even tone that could only come from him.

“Hi Vision…” Bruce responded nervously. He thought he was almost done with the conversation with Stark, almost to freedom. The universe had a different idea, however “I see you're adjusting to life pretty well”

“I must admit, I only became accustomed to clothing” Vision pointed at his outfit “Months after the incident with Ultron”

To make matters worse for Bruce, a new friend decided to pop in, in the form of Rhodey. He stumbled his way into view, still with the stride in his legs. The physical therapy Tony helped with helped with Rhodey's recovery a little, but it was clear there was a long journey ahead.

“Hey Mr. Stank, where did you put my coffee?” Rhodey mocked, making Tony groan in response.

“How long are you going to milk that?” ‘Mr. Stank’ groaned.

“As long as I can” Rhodey smirked. A small look of surprise went by his face at the sight of T'Challa and Bruce on the screen.

“Your highness, and Dr. Banner”

They both nodded in response, and looked at each other. They knew they would have to wind this down before they asked too many questions. They probably already let out too much as it was, with the location of Wakanda. Next thing they'll know they'll be asking about Bucky.

“Look, Tony, can we talk later?” Bruce added in “You got me at a bad time”

Tony gave a dramatic sigh “Fine...but I'm still expecting an answer for the whole therapist thing.

“Oh, I think you know that answer” Banner smirked, before T’Challa clicked off of the screen. Bruce breathed a huge sigh of relief, relieved and slightly proud he didn't reveal anything about Bucky. From what Bruce heard, if he actually told Tony about Bucky, He would destroy anyone and anything in his way to kill the former Winter Soldier. He was so blinded by vengeance, he can't think of anything else than clamping his hands on Bucky's frail neck.

T’Challa put his hands behind his back and shot Bruce a faint grin “Well done, Dr. Banner”

“Um, thanks” Bruce unfolded his glasses and slid them back on “I felt like I almost blew it”

“When?”

“When he brought up the whole therapist thing...it's a long story”

T’Challa replied with a tight grin, but like the wind, blew away from his face. His focus returned to the assassin, and the computer monitor in the corner.

“As you were saying?” The young king pointed back to the monitor. Bruce nodded, and pulled up a chair under the desk. His eyes glanced on the screen briefly, then turned back to T’Challa. He waved his hand towards him, to motion T’Challa to come over.

“You better take a look at this” Bruce commanded, as his finger lightly touched the glass screen. He walked over and stood calmly behind the scientist. But his calm demeanor seemed to disappear at the sight on the screen, and turn to fear.

“There…are others like Barnes?”

* * *

  _Venice, Italy_

The ex-Winter Soldier stepped off the rickety boat onto a rotted out deck, that looked like it was about fall apart any minute and sink into the icy cold water. He gently stepped across the deck, his worn out white shoes creaking against the nearly broken planks. His head hung low, but his steel blue eyes suspiciously glanced around his new, unfamiliar surroundings.

He didn't expect Venice to actually be the floating city he read about in a small pamphlet he glanced over a few days ago. He just expected a weird tourist destination, like one of those places people have a lot of hope in, but then are dramatically let down by the time they get to see it. Not that he really knew about tourist destinations though.

He was surrounded by small rivers of water, that streamed through buildings in the small city. He felt a light, salty breeze touch his face, barely blowing his unkempt hair in his ragged face. The sun beat down on his skin, causing him to squint his eyes in the bright light. He pulled down his cap closer down his forehead, and started to wander around the floating city.

The amount of people that walked around on the floating decks started to make him feel a little nauseous. Their conversations of who knows what became and melted into one loud noise that Bucky wasn't very comfortable with. He wasn't a very big fan of crowded places, especially ones that were surrounded by water. He survived the busy city of Bucharest, hell, a 13 hour plane ride from the United States to Europe, but the thought of very few ways to escape the floating city only added to his anxiety. He was already mapping out in his head escape routes, places to hide, ways to pick out suspicious people who wanted his hide. Maybe he could jump on one of those weird boats people rode on, and then-

_Stop_

He clenched his jaw tightly, and gave a silent sigh, literally stopping right in the middle of the deck sidewalk. He realized he was he was only adding to his paranoia and anxiety, making his stomach churn. What was the real point to all this planning? If Bucky was found, and he escaped, he would just be in this cycle of escape and terror. Eventually he would be flushed out of hiding again, then he would go back, then flushed out once more. It was just his life, an unstable mess with little hope of getting better. But to him, it was better than being an eternal slave who took away lives.

And speaking of his anxiety, he noticed people staring at him, and whispering to one another. A few people even pointed to him, then looked down when he glanced around them. It didn't look like anyone was about to pull their phone out and call who knows who, but it was obvious he stood out. It may have been his blood stained pants, maybe his worn out sweater.

Or, you know, his completely missing arm.

He realized he was going to have to get new clothes, just to stay out of the suspicion of people. He glanced around, looking for something shiny to get his reflection in. With no windows or anything shiny in sight, he walked to the edge of the water and bent his head down.

No wonder everyone was looking at him with a raised brow, he looked he's been through hell and back so many times he had frequent flyer miles. Dark circles drew under his bloodshot eyes, drooping slightly. Tired wrinkles lined his forehead, and was barely covered up by his ratty, dirt hair that seemed to be stuffed under his worn cap. Even after only a few days of his escape, a thick bread started to form around his face, adding to his homeless look. He was in need of a good shave, a good shower, and good clothes. He replied with a hint of a tight lipped smile at the tired man who stared back at him in the reflection. He didn't seem very familiar to Bucky. He seemed...weak.

Bucky lifted his head and glanced around under his cap. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few bills tucked under an empty glass of water, on a small quaint table next to a restaurant. He glanced around the tables that surrounded, and saw that a few other tables had cash lying around. In the open. With no one around. Just sitting there.

It was only 20 minutes later that the ex-Winter Soldier bought new, presentable clothes. He exited a small boutique wearing a thick navy wool shirt with long sleeves that hugged tightly around his muscular arm. A navy green windbreaker with loads of pockets sat loosely on his shoulders. His new look was finished off with a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a pair of brown leather construction boots. He still wore his worn out cap tightly around his head, but that was the only thing he didn't throw away. He clearly saw the suspicious glances everyone shot to him when he first entered the store, but that all disappeared once he whipped out his ‘borrowed’ cash.

He didn't mind stealing as much as he probably should have, but when you gotta live, you gotta live. Besides, it's not like he activity stole purse or wallets right off people. That's just asking to be arrested.

Bucky held his head a little higher, feeling a little more hidden in his new attire, but still had his cold hard glance, scanning around for trouble. His left sleeve swung and flew around in the light breeze, as he searched around for his next objective. He hoped to find a small store, maybe a tourist store, that sold a cheap package of razors so he could stop scratching the heck out of his face from his growing facial hair. After that, get out of town as quickly as he could.

He preferred those razors he used to use back when he was Sergeants Barnes, just a small, sharp knife, but when he tried to use just a regular knife, his face would be littered with small, shallow cuts. It would look like he was attacked by some animal with rabies. Modern razors were a little safer to use, in other words.

As he made a corner on the floating decks that lined the streets, a sickly sweet smell invaded his nose, and fogged his thoughts. He stopped once again in the middle of the deck, and let the pleasant smell fill his senses. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the pleasant odor was...familiar to him. Following the scent, he was lead to a small little bakery, with quaint small windows and a small little sign that read the specials for the day. Even with his ridiculous metabolism, his stomach wasn't really asking for food of any sorts, let alone a pastry, yet his nose and mind said differently.

Next thing Bucky knew, he was sitting on the patio that overlooked the Mediterranean sea, with a piece of cake set beside him. The cake was simple enough: A light yellow color with a smooth and soft texture, like a delicate sponge. He glanced at his cake again, trying to justify even why he bought it in the first place. But now, he had the dessert sitting in front of him, so he was going to have to eat it. So, he picked up his fork, dug out a chunk of it, and popped it into his mouth. He was hit with the sweet vanilla notes, not overpowering, but not weak either. It had a touch of sweetness, that was buried deep inside the moist, dense cake. He chewed slowly, taking in all the flavor.

And a memory

_"Steve, come on, you look and sound terrible" Bucky said, as he set down a few canvas bags on Steve's table._

_"I'm fine Buck" Steve croaked, and followed by a fit of deep, mucus filled coughs._

_Thin, small, and incredibly pale, it was obvious he caught the cold everyone's been getting lately. Wrapped in a thick blanket, and curled up on his couch/bed, he sat miserably as he coughed and sneezed his brains out. It didn't help that he had asthma either. It seemed like whenever a sickness went around, Steve was bound to get it._

_After 10 seconds of non-stop coughs, his brown haired friend walked over to the small couch Steve sat on and gave his bony back a couple of pats, stopping his coughs._

_"Woah, take it easy there pal," Bucky placed his hand on his tiny friends bony shoulder, with his classic crooked smile "I can't have you dying on me now"_

_Steve chuckled, with a grin on his ghostly pale face "Yeah, will what you do without me on your double dates?" He sarcastically quipped. Buck replied with the shrug of his shoulders, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He slowly strolled over back to the table, and lazily leaned against it._

_"That cute brunette from Queens had her eye on you last time. I saw the way she was looking at you" Bucky pointed out._

_"More like the way she was looking down at me. I don't wanna be standing on a crate just to dance with her"_

_"You're just plain hard to get, aren't you?"_

_"I just think the girls are just hard to get, especially around you" Steve said with a small grin, which Bucky also shot one back._

_"Hey, there's always next time" The tall man said, as he started to dig out what was in his bags. He pulled out a sack of flour followed by a small glass bottle of vanilla._

_Steve sighed "You don't have to do this Bucky, I'll be good. And besides, I gotta start getting to work, you too"_

_Bucky still pulled out ingredients from his canvas bags, ignoring his small friends comment "I already took care of that. I called in for you, and I got Dan covering my shift at the factory. Just relax Stevie"_

_"Doesn't your mother want you back at the house then?" Steve asked, as he grabbed a small towel and sneezed into it._

_"Ma's fine, she already knows I'm here. And besides, the girls have everything covered"_

_Buck searched through Steve's small kitchen and pulled out a small, old whisk and a metal bowl, and placed them on a small, table next to the sink. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, curious of what Bucky was planning to do._

_Steve stood up a little taller in his spot on the couch, and examined the things his friend brought in “How'd you get all that? I thought everyone's rationing everything cause of the war”_

_The taller man shrugged, as though he had no idea what Steve was talking about “I just stopped by a couple of places and picked up stuff on the way here. Now, stop being a punk and just rest”_

_As if Bucky actually got through Steve's head, the bony man let out a croaky sigh, and sunk back into his couch. He glanced at his taller friend, who ripped open the bag that held sugar and such, and dumped them into the dented small bowl. He picked up the bowl with one hand and slowly stirred around the contents, making sure none of his rationed food didn't go to waste._

_“Look, Bucky, I know you're just trying to help, but isn't this all a bit much?” Steve replied, feeling guilty for everything Buck was trying to do for him. Not only did he basically drop everything to help him, he's making free food for him. That's enough to drive anyone to guilt._

_Bucky replied with a tight smile, and slowly shook his head “Aw Steve,” he sighed, “You know I always do this when you get all sick. Come on, let's talk about something else”_

_Steve sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get through his taller friend’s head. He was just too sick and tired to keep on fighting about it, he gave in. He flopped to the side of the couch, and let his head hang on the side of the arm rest. He thought of things to talk about. He could just bring up how their was no way on god's green earth he was actually going to get a girl to dance with him, let alone have a decent conversation. Or, he could talk about how he wanted to go back to Coney Island after he got better, or at least before he got sick again. But out of those, there was one thing that has been on his mind, bugging him._

_“Do you think your gonna enlist?” Steve slightly lifted up his head, raising his brow in question. Bucky shrugged, and lifted up his arms, as to say he has no clue, but his clear blue eyes said differently._

_“I really don't know yet, I still have Ma and the girls to look after” Buck shrugged his shoulders again “I might not even have a choice in it, anyways. I heard almost everyone down my street got their draft card”_

_“You should if you want to”_

_“Yeah, your probably right...What about you?”_

_A look of nervousness crossed Steve's face, like he did something wrong. He left a slight awkward pause, answering Bucky's question “I, uh tried...And I was...rejected”_

_Those words left a bitter taste in Steve's mouth. Bucky's charming expression immediately washed away, and turned to sorrow and guilt. He heard almost all the time, at least when the war started in Europe, how Steve was going to fight for this country and so what's right. He knew his small friend took a hard blow on his already small ego._

_Buck then brought that charming smile back to his face, in attempt to change to subject “Maybe next time. You'll feel better once I get this thing done” He pointed to the bowl, filled with ingredients. The batter was a creamy, smooth texture, ready to be crammed in Steve’s tiny oven._

_Steve chuckled “You really like that cake, don't you?”_

_“If it's one thing I can make, it's a damn good cake” Bucky smirked, as he shoved the tray full of cake batter in his tiny oven. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, and put his hands on his side. His eyes drew to the small clock that sat in the corner, causing him to widen his eyes slightly._

_“Now scoot over, the games on” Bucky waved his hand, to motioned Steve to move over. Steve relies with a small grin, and moved over a little, leaving plenty of room for his taller friend._

_“Who's on again? Dodgers vs. Giants?”_

_“Nah, against the socks” Buck replied, turning the knob of the radio. It crackled to life, and spewed out the latest of the news. As it played, Bucky sank into the couch next Steve, and made himself comfortable. He shot his small friend a comforting smile, a smile that told Steve everything would be okay. Everything will be alright._

_“And here we are, Folks. Today's a big day for those Dodgers…”_

Bucky smiled. How could he forget tiny Steve? He barely remembered he baked before, let alone how to cook something decent. Anything he tried to cook now either came out incredibly hard or stale. He could make scrambled eggs, but even those were very rubbery. It was like he was chewing on a tire. He guessed the cake recipe came from whoever ‘Ma’ was, probably his mother. As for who the girls were, nothing clicked in his head.

It seemed like when new memories came to him, his head would just try to stuff them in along with other situations and thoughts. His head was just a jumble of over stimulation; it was like when he got another memory, another one would come soon after, and another, and another. Sometimes it was a little more than he could handle at a time. That's why he need to dump his thoughts and memories out in small notebooks, to empty his mind a little. Maybe before he left, he would just pick up another and start writing again.

He didn't want to forget anything, but how it was so hard to remember everything.


	7. Prisoners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Italics) - Translations
> 
> *Italics* - Reading
> 
> Italics - Flashback/Memory

_Last thing I remember, I was_  
_Running for the door_  
_I had to find the passage back_  
_To the place I_ _was before_  
_"Relax, " said the nightman,_  
_"We are programmed to receive._  
_You can check-out any time you like,_  
_But you can never leave!”_

_-_ Hotel California(Eagles)

* * *

 

_Munich, Germany_

Bucky stepped of the train platform, and merged into a huge pile of people. He was shoved around and pushed a little, but little by little, he made it out of the train platform and into the main station. He was led into a huge underground hallway, that seemed to stretch on endlessly for miles. The amount of people stuffed inside the train station made the Winter Soldier a little nauseous out of a new level anxiety. But this is what he wanted; not an endless drive to place he didn't even know how to navigate to.

Back in Venice, after a messy shave, he was planned to ‘borrow’ a car as well as ‘borrow’ some cash, but came across a small tourist pamphlet for a high speed train. Since it claimed it could get him to his wanted destination within 24 hours, he swallowed his fear of crowds and used the rest of his money to buy a ticket. It was a little harder to get his backpack of death through the train without suspicion, but apparently shooting deadly glares to people shot away people.

Being about an 8 hour ride from Venice to Munich, he took out that mysterious HYDRA file and read the next page. To him, it didn't bring up any memories or anything of importance to him. It was simply a whole mess of numbers and formulas Bucky couldn't even begin to comprehend, or even hope to. At least it passed time on his train ride.

So now broke, lost, and hungry, he scoured out for lost change and money, as well as the next station he needed to board. He shuffled his way through the mass of people and emerged into large plaza, lined with fancy stone flooring and a large open ceiling. He slowly made his way to a large electronic sign, with arrivals and departures. He glanced up and down, looking for his time.

10 minutes. 10 minutes to find enough cash, find the station, and get on. He shrugged mentally. For him, it wasn't a problem. He's done much more in less time. And with guns pointed to his back.

His eyes scanned around again for any loose cash, change, anything. He scanned around small restaurants, tables, anywhere people would leave money, but it seemed like once people left their money at the table, the waiters would automatically stuff the cash in their pockets, or glare at the table like a hawk until they got the cash. Much to his hope, he didn't find anything but a few pieces of chewed gum glued onto the floor and walls.

The Winter Soldier sighed internally. He had 5 minutes left, at most. Maybe this was a little harder than he originally thought. He walked swiftly down another hall connected to the plaza to an emptier area, with only one or two people who walked though. It was a shorter hallway that stopped abruptly, with no real entrance to anything.

Before he walked away and gave up on his search for money, he noticed something odd. In the corner, a neatly dressed man in a suit and tie stood in front of a small machine. As he was busy talking away on his cell phone he pushed a few buttons, and a few seconds later, something magical popped out.

“Ja, ja, bei fünf, nicht wahr? _(Yeah, Yeah, at five, right?)_ ” The suited man asked, as he grabbed a few fresh bills from the machine, and stuffed it in his already thick wallet. Bucky’s eyes lit up slightly in interest. A machine that spewed out cash basically out of nowhere. Perfect for him. 

“Jetzt? _(Now?)_ ” The man looked at his expensive watch, and his eyes widened “Dann muss ich gehen, auf Wiedersehen _(Then I have to go, bye)_ ” He quickly stuffed his phone in his pocket and made a run for it, like he was in a great hurry to get somewhere, leaving something very important behind, something plastic and thin.

The Winter Soldier slowly stepped up to the machine, labeled ATM. He saw a few machines like this scattered about on his trips, but he had no idea of its use. But in about 5 minutes, he was going to have to figure it out somehow.

Würden Sie eine andere Transaktion gefallen hat? _(Would you like to make another transaction?)_ The glowing screen read, blinking two answers below. He intensely stared at the screen, and finally pressed Ja(Yes). An entire list of options pulled up in front of him, so many he became slightly overwhelmed. He hovered his hand over the screen, scanning around for his options, and after a few seconds, pressed Abhebe _(Withdraw)_ , causing a number pad to pop out. Thinking he was on the right track, he quickly pushed in a huge amount, and pressed a green button. He head snapped down when he heard a small beep, and saw a small slot glow a bright green. It was only seconds later his hand was filled with a thick stack of bills, and began to stuff it into his pocket.

But of course, their was bound to be some sort of casualty.

“Nicht schreien, oder ich werde dein verdammtes gehirn ausblasen _(Don't scream, or I'll blow your fucking brains out)_ ” Bucky heard a gritty voice whisper behind him, followed by the thick smell of tobacco. His eyes drew to the small mirror stuffed in the corner of the ATM, and saw the culprits. Two men dressed in ragged leather jackets stood behind a taller, more muscular guy, with slicked back hair and a crooked, sinister smile plastered on his face. He lazily swing his small pistol in his heavily ringed fingers, while chewing a black tar object in in mouth. Tobacco, Bucky thought.

“Was? Komm schon! _(What? Come on!)_ ” The guy’s lazily smile disappeared, and morphed into a snarl. He held his small pistol tighter, and aimed it at the Winter Soldier's back. He had two options, either fork over the cash, and probably miss his train, or make a run for it, and get shot in line for that train ticket.

“Drei Sekunden oder Ihre Toten _(Three seconds or you're dead)_ ” He warned once more, as he shoved the barrel of his gun into Bucky’s head.

Then again, there always was and a third option.

Bucky swing his fist into the side of the guy’s temple, causing the guy to spit his tobacco out and drop his gun to the floor. He fell to the ground, splattering blood on the stone floor.

One of his lackey’s charged Bucky with a fist, screaming as he ran at him. He swung his body around, only to grab the lackey's first and squeeze it in his hand. The lackey cried out in pain, as he felt the bones snap in his small, pathetic hand. Bucky planted his boot into his frail stomach, and let go of his grip, sending the lackey right into the wall.

Suddenly, a fist slammed into Bucky's head, snapping his head to the side. He quickly jerked his head back, and turned around, as though he didn't feel a thing. He saw the last lackey, with a shaky fist in his hand. His eyes bulged out of his head, and his body shook, realizing his potentially fatal mistake.

“W-was zur Hölle bist du? _(W-what the hell are you?)_ ” The small minion croaked, as his eyes fearfully looked into the Winter Soldier's steel blue. He paused for a second, as a glimmer of doubt crossed his face, but was quickly washed off. With a stone cold Winter Soldier expression, Bucky delivered a blowing lunch to the man's face, causing him to collapse on the ground. His fist shook, as he brought it back to the side of his body. That last question seemed to strike him, in a way the unconscious man on the ground would have never expected. Then again, he didn't know he was the fugitive James Buchanan Barnes, most known as the Winter Soldier

“I don't know…” Bucky whispered questionably under his breath, as though he still didn't know the answer. Sighing, he unclenched his fist, and quickly walked away. Walking back into the plaza, his eyes drew to the clock. 2 minutes.

He scanned around for a ticket counter, and to his hope, found one without a line. As he jogged up to the counter, he anxiously looked behind himself, weary of the thieves. Who knows how long they would be unconscious. But being one of the most unlucky people on the planet, his streak of hope wouldn't last very long.

As he grabbed his ticket, he glanced behind himself, and saw the three men, furiously scanning for him. The leader had blood streaming out from his forehead, and trickled down his chin. If he didn't angry before, he had an expression that made him look as though he was about to blow his top. Bucky quickly stuffed the train ticket in his pocket, and shuffled swiftly out of line. He pulled his cap down and drew his eyes to the ground, attempting to blend with the crowd. He took one last glance, and the three men immediately pointed his direction. He was done for.

The Winter Soldier sprinted down the plaza, and emerged into the hallway. He wiggled and squirmed through lines of people, as his head jerked back constantly. He saw behind him the three men shoving and pushing their way through the crowd, yelling curse words at the top of their lungs. He ducked into the crowd at the sound of bullets, causing other citizens to scream and duck for cover.

In the chaos, of citizens running for their lives, he ran shuffled through the entrance of his station stop, and sprinted towards the train. Before the doors closed, he jumped into the train, crashing into the walls. As the metal doors slowly shut, he stumbled back to his feet and peered out the windows, and saw the men emerge from the stairs, dazed and confused. When they realized their objective was on the train, the high speed vehicle slowly pulled out of the station, away from the chaos and from the thieves.

Bucky breathed an internal sigh of relief, as he almost collapsed against the side of the train wall. In an attempt to gather himself, he gave a deep breath, and slowly turned around. He was meet with a line of curious and suspicious eyes, either peering from the tip of their newspaper or sneaking a glance from their own conversation. They had a right to be a little anxious, they just saw a man basically chuck himself into a train. But thankfully for the Winter Soldier, the people didn't have a clue who he was.

Bucky slid down the aisle carefully down the aisle, feeling those curious eyes slowly turn away, finally ignoring his presence. He glanced around, and sank into a seat in the corner far in the back, next to a nice, clean window. Take a look outside, the bustling city blurred past his view, like one of those dreams that everything was blurry, and nothing was recognizable.

The train itself was nice and quaint, far better than the tiny beat down boat he was in only days earlier. The neat, cloth seats were as squeaky clean, like they just emerged from the washing machine. The plastic windows were crystal clear; like everything around it. The people around sat quietly in their seats, either gazing out the window, or reading the latest news. It was one of the better places he rode in, not that it really mattered to his survival though.

When he became tired of looking at the cars that he zooms past, his eyes drew to the zipper of his backpack of weapons. He mentally shrugged. He was probably going to be on the train for another 6 hours, so what else is their to do other than take another peek at that file?

He zipped the backpack open and pulled out the thick manilla file, and flipped to his next page. Paper clipped on was a picture of a large metal tube, with a slight orange rust scattered all around. most of the rust was collected near the small, iced window, with small hairline cracks. A thin, wispy fog seemed from the cracks, creating an ominous picture that was all too familiar to the Winter Soldier. Although the glass was fogged over with a thick layer of ice, he already knew what was inside.

_November 5th, 1943_

_*Newest subject, labeled ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ was deemed missing after explosion at HYDRA base in sector 12. Unknown if subject is declared dead or escaped. Further research was needed before subject was put into trial. Entire operation regarding this project was moved to HYDRA base in sector 3, as well as remaining subjects. All subjects immediately tested and put into trial, as commander commanded, due to “Lack of time, space, and ultimately patience” Out of the last 7 remaining subjects, 4 declared dead due to hypothermia. 2 declared dead due to violent reaction with serum. 1 declared dead due to self-inflicted harm. Not clear what cause of death was due to, as subject was found with noose around neck with multiple stab wounds. All bodies are frozen and are to be tested further when base stabilizes. Further information regarding failed subjects found in file 13X.*_

_Screaming._

_The first sound that pounded itself into Bucky's frail ears was absolute bloody murder. He had no hope of escape. His dirty, blood stained hands were tightly tied down by beaten up leather restraints. His ripped up filthy pants sat above his bloodied scratched up legs, also clamped down by restraints. Blurred faces in pure white lab coats surrounded his view, as he was pushed along on a rusted out medical gurney, like a hospital would. Except he wasn't going to a place where he was going to get help. It was far worse than that._

_He felt like absolute hell. His head felt like someone set a bomb off inside it, throbbing in a sickening pain. His lungs were on fire, never able to catch the smallest of breaths. His body was a mixture of a new kind of terror and pain he never experienced before. It felt a numbness, like when people began to lose their fingers when they turn a dark blue from frost bite. Yet, it felt like he was struck by lightning, over, and over, and over again. Like the sharp pain of electricity seeped through every little nerve, and killed his nerves. It was a pain that made him beg for his death, and ask God to end everything now. Even if he never saw his small, blond friend ever again._

_No matter how loud, how sickening, how desperate his screams were, they were no match for the shrieks of terror that filled his ears. It was the sound of death. The sound of other subjects freezing alive. The sound of other subjects burning alive. The sound of other subjects life leaving their body._

_Bucky’s wide, fearful eyes made the mistake of scanning around. On one side of the room, he saw a young man get pushed into a freezing chamber, and his attempts to get himself free. On the other, he saw a young girl collapse on the ground, twitching around like she was a fish without air. Her wide, bloodshot eyes was enough for her screams; her mouth was covered had a light, bubbly foam that seeped out a pale pink, followed by a gush of thick, dark red blood, that slipped onto the concrete floor._

_This was worse for him than the battle field. At least when he was fighting he saw the life leave from his enemies. Here, he saw the life leave from the innocent. Even if they weren't as innocent as they seemed, they didn't fight for anything to deserve this. Even the worst, most evil person in the world didn't deserve what he saw here. It was like hell on earth to him. He knew, even in countless lifetimes, he would never forget that lifeless dead girl. Her glazed over rich brown eyes and the blood that flowed from her lips would forever be etched in his mind._

_And he was next._

The Winter Soldier fingers became light, and let the file slip through his fingers and onto the floor. He slammed his head into the seat in front and clamped onto the seat in front. His fingers dug through the fabric, almost piercing through to the cotton underneath. With his shocked face hidden, ragged, deep breaths escaped his throat. His dirty, ragged hair fell in front of his steel blue eyes, as though trying his best to hide his frazzled emotion. His fear.

He almost forgot about that girl. How could he now? It was simply a speck of the terror and fear HYDRA brought down not only on that dead girl, but on countless others, including him. But when he was the Winter Soldier, the pain was just part of the job. HYDRA could only do so much to condition their subjects to pain, the rest had to be done by the subject themselves. If not, they're end up as dead as that girl. Who knows how he survived it all, considering all he wanted to do before he became the Winter Soldier was die. What made him so special?

After a few minutes of contemplating his trip and life, he began to shake off his anxiety and stress sown. He slowly let go of the seat cushion, and collapsed into the seat behind him. He wasn't going to look at that file for a while, not when memories like that popped up. It didn't take more than two painful trips back down memory lane to tell him that each time he was going to look at that file, a little piece of his past would come back into place and shove itself back in. But were these the memories he really wanted to remember?

He shook his head, trying to shake of his heightened anxiety and thoughts. He didn't want to think about all of his questions, not now. So, in an attempt to get his mind off of things, he grabbed a small pamphlet from the seat pocket and unraveled the map of the train stops. His eyes drew to his next stop, his goal.

Berlin.

Because his other backpack was there, inside a small evidence room, next to the room where he was kept. His memories and thoughts were locked in a room, a room he would fight tooth and nail to pry open.

* * *

  _Location Unknown_

“Bring them in”

The leader commanded. He had a tight lipped smile of frustration on his face, that was lightly covered by the darkness that swallowed the rest of his body. His ragged fingernails tapped against his metallic desk, impatient of the progress. He expected more out of the Winter Soldiers, especially against a team of four rag-tag avengers on the run, and a rusty former soldier too. It only brought insult to injury when he found out the asset was also missing an arm, and stuck in a tiny glass container. For the leader, it simply meant he was going to have to lay out an even stricter law.

The thick metal door slowly swung open into the dimly light room, revealing the two Winter Soldiers surrounded by 10 heavily armed guards. The leader knew, even with that extent of security, the soldiers could rip right through them like tissue paper. That's why it was required to rip their thoughts apart

“Leave” He commanded once more, as he waved his hand. The weaker soldiers that held guns nodded, and slowly exited the small concrete office. The thick door slowly creaked behind the other soldiers, until it finally clicked shut.

He pointed to the muscular man with the ratty blond hair,“The intelligence community calls you the Phantom Soldier. Correct?”

The Phantom Soldier stood planted in his place, and blankly glared at the wall behind the leader, as though his eyes could pierce through the concrete. It was like the question went over his head.

The man chuckled, without a sense of humor, and bent back in his chair, hiding him in darkness “Heh, it's not like you could even answer that anyways” He slowly lifted himself off the chair, and paced within the shadows, his hands neatly behind his back.

“Mission report” The leader said in a cold tone. The soldier's lifeless grey eyes immediately locked down into the leaders. The question processed through his head, like he was a computer.

“Mission unsuccessful” The soldier responded in his unmistakable accent “Asset escaped. Location is currently unknown”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Two confirmed witnesses, Dr. Bruce Banner, and…” He squinted his this eyebrows in thought “A man in a black suit. Identity unknown”

“The King of Wakanda…” The leader whispered to himself. He raised his head within the darkness, letting his eyes shine through “Is our cover blown?”

The Phantom Soldier titled his head down and furrowed his brows in thought again “No evidence”

The man replied with a tight lipped smile, and turned to the soldier “Okay then. Stand down” The Phantom Soldier replied with a quick nod, and immediately drew his eyes to the ground.

“Now you, they call you the Crimson Soldier?”

The female soldier didn't respond, instead she kept her lips tightly shut. Her head low over her shoulders, letting her thick chestnut hair hang over her lost and dazed face. Her mind seemed to be in a different place, which spelled trouble for the leader.

“Soldier!” The leader growled, causing the Crimson Soldier to snap her head up. Her green eyes widened a little, as though she was snapped out of a thought.

He let out a tired sigh “Mission report”

“Mission..failed?” She replied in a question like state, as though she didn't know what she was trying to say “Targets escaped…They were last seen escaping on route 395”

“Was the other plan implemented then?”

“Yes. The City was bombed on the southeast corner and car explosion. 11 casualties confirmed. All evidence of HYDRA erased…” She trailed off once again, and drew her eyes to the darkness behind the leader.

“Over here” The leader growled again, and snapped his fingers to bring the Crimson Soldier’s attention again.

“One of those…targets,” She started, brought her pained eyes back the man’s visibly impatient eyes “I think...he looked familiar…”

The leader released an irritable sigh, and without any sign of real rage, slammed his hands down in his desk, causing a few pencils to roll off and blonde to the ground.

He held his temple in frustration “And this is why you blatantly fucked up?

“Other thin-”

“HYDRA doesn't have time for your pathetic excuses, understand? You go out there, you do your duty, and you succeed. I don't have time for what you think you know and what you say you know. You are to carry out the operation, simple as that”

Her eyes turned stone cold, as her expression became flat and unreadable, like she was trying to hide her true feelings. Yet, the leader could read that this soldier, this asset, was coming out of the wiping process. So the next steps were simple for him.

“Come back in!” He shouted, causing the other lackeys to step back in, their gins still tightly held.

He pointed the Phantom Soldier “Take him to medical and sterilize him for any other injuries” His eyes narrowed sinisterly, and drew to the Crimson Soldier

“As for her, wipe her”

The other soldiers nodded, and pushed the elite soldiers out. They grabbed on to their arms and shoulders, and shoved them out of the room. A few of the other soldiers stayed behind, eagerly waiting for further instructions.

The leader unclenches his hands and lifted them from the desk, in an attempt to relax. But he could really never, he was the boss “After the assets are taken care off, lock them back in holding until further instruction. Get the others out of cryo and wipe whoever need to get wiped. Then bring them to me for mission.

The soldiers replied with a frigid salute and in an orderly fashion, stomped out. Once the huge metal door came to a close, the leader sighed, and slumped back into his shiny, oiled chair.

“HYDRA…” The man chuckled bitterly “Rogers thought he tore us apart…”

“Well, he's not going to find the news on him so...American” His eyes drew to a wrinkled newspaper, with Captain America’s picture the big headline.

_Steve Rogers: Is our American hero Captain HYDRA?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are the Winter Soldiers for you! I'm going to be starting school soon, so I might have to change updates to twice a week or less, so sorry, but it's probably starting next week so..  
> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you did so I can improve this fic.


	8. Roots

_And my thoughts are digging in the back yard_  
_My roots are grown but I don't know where they are_  
_Don't know where they are_  
_Don't know where they are_  
_My roots are grown but I don't know where they are_

-Cats and Dogs(The Head and The Heart)

* * *

 

_Lafayette, California_

Cars today disappointed Steve. He thought after nearly 70 years of being under the ice, car companies would make it nearly impossible to hotwire and ‘borrow’ a car. The worst part to him was that he was the one who hotwired the car, with the same techniques he used back in the war, and nothing more. He expected more from the so called 21st century; the age of technology.

So now the super soldier, the enhanced young girl, the birdman, and and the ex-con drove along the thin highway, surrounded by lush, green rolling hills, stuffed inside a small four door sedan that had seen better days. To the four runaways however, it got the job done perfectly. It got them to the place they wanted to be, and hid them from the authorities. Considering a short amount of time passed since the attack in that small town, they expected people looking for them. Especially Stark.

“Hey tic-tac, how long until we get in San Francisco?” Sam asked, as he sat shot-gun, next to Steve.

Scott scanned his eyes on a large, wrinkly map he found a few hours back. Although he was from San Francisco, the area around was basically unknown to him. He barely knew where he was now.

“Uhhhh...half an hour?” He squinted at the map, as though that would make him understand the lines that were drawn on the large piece of paper “Wait...maybe an hour...it's one of this two…”

“Here” Wanda carefully lifted the map from the clueless man’s hands and read it for herself. Her glance drew from the map to the green hills that flew right past in her in her seat, examining her location.

“I'm guessing calling Stark is out of the question now?” Scott asked bitterly, obvious he had some kind of vendetta against the billionaire, even if they really only had contact for mere seconds.

Steve clenched his jaw “Yeah. We're not calling Tony”

His bright blue eyes failed to draw to Scott, keeping them on the long road ahead of him. He knew calling Stark would just be too risky, especially with Ross hanging over his head. One phone call and he just might find himself in a jail cell, and along with Bucky. That was the best case scenario. He already knew the worst case, but didn't want to plant that thought in his head. He had to hang onto his faith and belief that everything would work itself out, if he made the effort to.

“You sure Pym is alright with this?” Steve asked, as he looked at Scott through the rear view mirror.

“Hank is good, I mean, he's helped _me_ " The brown haired man added in, thinking about his ex-con past.

“30 minutes” Wanda suddenly popped in, as she neatly folded the map.

“What?” Sam asked with a raised brow.

“30 minutes until we enter the city”

He replied with a small nod of his head, then drew his eyes back to the long read ahead. He slightly rolled his shoulder, letting a dull pain escape from his injury. Even if only a short amount of time passed since the attack on the city, the throbbing pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the injuries he felt before. His shoulder was a cakewalk.

Wanda still had a stinging pain that dulled her senses and fogged up her mind of any thought. She squinted her eyes and lightly touched her temples, as though she was thinking, even though she didn't have a single thought in her head. She also felt worse pain than that needle that buried itself into her forehead, but she hated it. She hated the feeling of the sharp, electrical impulses that made her immobile and her brain mush. She hated feeling helpless, because she knew she didn't have much of an excuse to be. She could manipulate objects, people, minds, goddamit.

Suddenly, a small, deep buzz cut through the silence of the small truck. The four ex-avengers wearily scanned around the truck, well, except Scott. He nervously patted his hands around his pants, and pulled out a small phone. His eyes glanced up to the rearview mirror, with the phone tight in his hand

“It's Pym…” He muttered. Before Steve could answer, Scott pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, Pym?” The brown haired man asked “I don't know if he can...is it really that urgent?” A few seconds later, his eyes widened “Oh, yeah, that's really bad…” He pulled down the phone from his ear and held it out for Steve.

“Pym wants you. It's pretty urgent” Scott shook the phone a little in his hand, signaling Steve. Steve raised a brow in suspicion, but took it anyways and answered the call.

“Mr. Py-”

“I don't have much time Captain Rogers, the government is probably tracking this as a I speak” Pym cut off in a stern tone “Pull over now. Get a newspaper, look at a t.v screen, get on your phone, I don't care, just do it. Let's just say your ‘little’ incident is much bigger than anticipated. Do not call me back, I'll call you”

The phone line went dead before the Captain could utter a word. His bright blue eyes squinted in slight confusion, but mostly in anxiety. He knew that that attack was already all over the news, but this seemed a little more than a news coverage on a raid. Even if this was really the first time he's actually spoken to Hank, he knew seriousness when he heard it. Something else was up.

“Cap?” Scott asked with curiosity, as he grabbed the phone from Steve's tight hand. He had to tug it a few times before Steve registered movement. He unclenched the electronic device, and set his eyes back on the road. He didn't want to show the uneasiness that weighted him down, but he couldn't fool Sam. The way Steve’s fingers twitched on the steering wheel, and the way he refused to even glimpse at anyone was a sure sign for the ex-military man something rubbed the captain the wrong way.

“Steve?” Sam asked “Something wrong?”

He snapped out of his thoughts “It's nothing” Steve said coldly “I just need to make a stop”

It didn't fool Sam in the least, but he didn't want to push his buttons. If he didn't want to tell anyone, let him be. Even Wanda knew something was up, and she didn't have to use her powers.

As they pulled into the small, California city, Steve pulled the small car over to a beaten up diner, with a small T.V just barely visible out of the fogged up windows. Pulling over his hoodie from his jacket, he turned over the engine.

“Wait here” He commanded, and stepped out. He slammed the car door, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He hoped if he hung his head down low enough, and didn't make eye contact, he would buy himself enough time to check this ‘news’ about the wrecked city. He glanced inside of the diner, and scanned around the diners. A few just ate, others read newspapers, and some just talks. Judging from the average ages from the people on the restaurant, no one would be even capable enough of taking the super soldier. Hell, he took down about 8 guys in an elevator.

Feeling a little more confidant, he swung open the glass door, making a small bell ring along with his moment. Not one person bothered to even bat an eye towards him as he walked down to a booth near the television screen. The small, thick television box played to be what seemed like a commercial, for a car, or what Steve thought. He tapped his fingers patiently, waiting for the news to click on again. It couldn't be worse than what he thought off; a small city partially blown up, thanks to unknown forces involving the ex-Avengers.

Seconds later, the commercial finally finished, revealing the title Breaking News. A young, clean cut anchorwoman sat at the screen, with tight pursed lips, with the main news story right above her shoulder. Steve's eyes widened.

“ _This is breaking news. Secretary Thaddeus Ross had declared these four vigilantes; Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, and Sam Wilson as terrorists’ in a press conference following the events that occurred in a small city in Northern California. 11 people died due to the destruction these former Avengers had done, including unmonitored destruction on the city itself. Following the event, Secretary Ross had to say this regarding these terrorist”_

A video of Ross merged on the screen, swallowed in a sea of reporters. He had a tight lipped and frustrated expression. It was clear it was done with the ex-Avengers.

“ _These so called heroes not only took it upon themselves to destroy city property, but also took the lives of innocent people. We must call these enhanced and highly equipped people homegrown terrorist, as SHIELD came out to be following the emergence of HYDRA. There's absolutely no excuse for this at all, they must be taken down, no matter the cost, for the protection of the American people.”_

_“Steve Rogers was the image of the United States, Captain America, the thing and ideals Americans stood up and fought for. But now it is clear this image is tarnished forever, and is now a distant memory. Research and history has shown us, taking in mind his relationship with HYDRA member James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers is apart of the terrorist organization HYDRA. Their is no other explanation for the actions he took only months ago against his fellow Avengers, even recruiting other ex-Avengers into the hands of HYDRA.. These actions only days ago have made this theory a reality”_

_“Captain America is now a HYDRA terrorist on the run”_

The news switched back to the anchorwoman, with a picture of Captain America with the HYDRA symbol plastered onto his shield.

 _“It is still not clear the intention of the initial attack, but there is speculation regarding the status of Steven Rogers and his allegiance to HYDRA. If any of these vigilantes are spotted, please contact your local authorities_ ”

Steve couldn't comprehend what he saw. It sent a shock of surprise through his bones, but also made his blood boil. Steve pledged to HYDRA? It was like some sick, twisted joke, except this was reality now. He had to bite his lip until it bleed to keep him from slamming his fists on the table. How dare Ross think he even was involved with HYDRA affairs for even one second. Not only did he take down most of HYDRA during the war, he risked his life, and almost died killing the Red Skull.

But what really made him want to scream at the top of his lungs and send a fist slamming into the T.V was because of Bucky. Those bastards torchered him in unspeakable ways, made his brain into nothing more than mush, made him kill and take away lives. And he couldn't do one thing to stop it. It would have been so much better to Steve, as sad as it sounded, if Bucky, his best friend, his brother, would have just died. Although it was painful at the sight of him dying, is nowhere compared to the agony he feels now with only pieces of Bucky back. It's like a ghost of his pal, his Buck, haunts him in the form of the Winter Soldier; same face, same movements, but completely different mind.

All of this thanks to goddam HYDRA.

Steve jumped up from his seat and stomped out of the small diner. He slammed the glass door open, almost causing it to shatter from his strength. He hung his head even lower in his mood of mixed feelings. One part of him wanted to punch everything in sight, another wanted to break down and weep, but a small part of him just wanted to clear his head of any thoughts, and for a moment, forget about everything. Yet, he couldn't afford any of these options, not while he was in charge.

Steve anxiously stepped back into the small car, and hung the car key over the ignition. Like a strong force came over him, he couldn't start the car. He couldn't just stick the key in and drive. Maybe it was those thoughts of HYDRA that covered up his thoughts. Or, maybe the newspaper mocking him in back with his face plastered in the front.

“Captain HYDRA?” Scott said, calling utter bullshit “What the hell?”

The Captain simply lost it, and snatched the newspaper out of his hand. He tightly crumpled it into a ball and angrily chucked it out of the window. He didn't know how else to react, so his hand clamped back onto the steering wheel, using the last shred of patience he had left to calm himself down.

The sedan went quiet, letting Steve's frustrated and angry mood fill in the gaps. He rarely just simply lost it. He didn't snap when Bucky seemingly died, or even when Peggy died. But, he did lose it, when Stark blew of Bucky's arm. To be fair, it wasn't like Tony deliberately cut off his arm, but something in how Bucky, his hopeless face caked in blood, laid utterly helpless on the concrete made Steve crack. He even scared himself a little the way he sent punches and kicks to Tony, meant to be hurtful in everyday possible. But what frightened him the most was he could have easily killed Stark. He could have simply sent the edge of his metal shield straight into Tony's frail, exposed throat, decapitating him instantly. How it could have all went down.

“I don't know what the news said about you Steve,” Sam drew his eyes to Steve’s “But this isn't the way to handle it”

Steve replied with a harsh sigh “Sam, Sam…” He loosely shook his head “They just accused me of being apart of HYDRA”

“Really? You're serious?” The ex-military man raised a brow in suspicion. To him, that was a complete joke. A man fighting HYDRA for basically all his military life is now an accused Nazi. The blond man replied with a small, weak nod.

“Not only me, but all of us. We're not just vigilantes anymore. We're terrorists” He said bitterly.

“So, what I'm getting, is that if we're caught, we are even more screwed than we were before?” Scott asked with a tinge of anxiety in his voice. He knew I'd he was arrested before he would face a considerable amount of jail time. Now if he's caught, he's probably going to spend an eternity locked up in that prison in the middle of nowhere. Great. Just great.

“Terrorists, huh?” Wanda chucked dryly. For her at least, it was pretty ironic, considering she was in HYDRA for a little while.

“I wouldn't worry too much. It’s me they're after. The rest of you are icing on the cake” Steve knew Ross, after everything that happened, has a vendetta against him. He would be shocked if he didn't.

“I wouldn't be so sure,” The enchanted young girl said, with a ghost of a grin on the corner of her lips “You're forgetting that I was involved with HYDRA. That's evidence enough”

Steve was brought back to a small flashback of Wanda, the young girl in jail tied up in a straight jacket, with a metal collar tight around her throat. He remembered the look of hopelessness that outlined her young, innocent face. She was in place where real criminals, the worst of the worst, were sent to rot out the way of their lives in jail.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you” Steve replied with frustration “Any of you”

Wanda replied with a warm, yet false smile. She wanted to believe deep in her heart that he would truly protect her, like a naive child who doesn’t know the dangers of the world they live in, but she couldn’t. She would have believe that kind of fake reassurance before Pietro sacrificed his life; always saying he would be okay, fine. Then one day, he wasn’t.

“So Cap, what's the plan?” Sam asked.

Steve sighed. There were too many options, so many ways to take offense and defense. It’s like war, except without the snap quick decisions. Maybe, probably this time he would have to make a quick choice, especially with god knows who on his trail now.

“We stick with the original plan. Then we'll go from there”

He knew everyday he waited meant another day for Bucky to get caught and arrested. He hoped to god his best friend was okay.

* * *

_Wakanda_

“Was it that file or…”

Banner trailed off, as he searched around for files he printed out, scattered about on the glass table. He slid a thick stack files across the table, and glanced and their titles.

“Is this the one?” T’Challa loosely held a thick yellow file in his hand.

“Yeah, that's it” Bruce nodded and plucked the file from his hand “Thanks”

T’Challa replied with a small nod of his head. Even a trace of a smile crossed his lips, but disappeared too quickly for even Banner to notice.

The two, just off the internet, found loads of information about HYDRA, anything from Project Insight to where the next HYDRA meeting was held. It was a small surprise that this precious information wasn't simply erased from the net soon after SHIELD and HYDRA collapsed, but it seemed like nothing was permanently deleted. But it had its limits, considering it was information of everything HYDRA until it publicly collapsed. Anything the after the collapse was grey area.

“I know I’m getting sidetracked here, but this is just…” The scientist trailed off, his attention turning onto the diagrams on the file. Specifically, the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. His eyes scanned all of the intricate details of the pieces drawn out just to make the prosthetic. There had to be thousands of pieces just to get it to even have nerves to react to it, let alone make it operate.

“...spectacular. I-I've never seen anything like this in my entire life. No springs, no wires, not even any visible artificial nerves, just solid metal. It operates like any other limb should, and has the same reaction time too, maybe even faster. I don’t even know what kind of metal Barnes arm is made of; it's not vibranium. I don’t even think Tony could pull this kind of advanced technology off”

“What are you trying to say?” T’Challa asked, as he stopped his search for the metal armed man.

Banner replied with a heavy shrug of his shoulders “I don’t know...I guess this means HYDRA is more technologically advanced than we thought, at least part of it. We just need to find which part”

The young king slightly nodded, and put his hands behind his back. He turned calmly back to his large monitor, in search of the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier. He was slightly surprised that Steve never called back, just to update Bucky’s search, considering Steve was in fact the most interested in Bucky, and for the fact T’Challa and Banner had the resources to track him. It could have meant two things; one, Tony tracked down the call and called them all out, or two, they were caught.

Either way, T’Challa wouldn’t stop until he found Bucky and kept him safe. He made a promise not only to Steve, but also to his father. It was a promise he intended to keep.

“Your highness….” Banner slowly took off his glasses, revealing his fearful eyes. He slowly turned his head towards the young king, as his shaky finger hovered over the computer screen “You might want to take a look at this…”

The young king instantly dropped everything and rushed to the computer screen. Judging from the way Dr. Banner’s hand was shaking violently, something was seriously wrong. Could it have been what he feared worst?

By the time the Captain “HYDRA” newsreel shown all over the world was watched by the two, T’Challa’s stomach dropped.

“R-Really? This isn't some kind of sick joke?” Banner could hardly believe it. The news explicitly called Captain America a goddamn nazi. In full truth, he didn't really know Steve all that well, but he knew more than enough to call out this HYDRA bullshit.

“I’m afraid not, Dr. Banner” T’Challa replied in calm, level voice, as he leaned against a glass table with his arms crossed. Yet inside, he felt utter conflict. On one hand, Steve should have seen this coming, considering he was working actively with an ex-HYDRA assassin, not that the world knew Bucky wasn’t in HYDRA anymore. It’s like begging to became a martyr. On the other hand...Steve simply felt that he was fighting for what was right, as well as for himself. Against another team of HYDRA assassins, and for Bucky. He’s not evil, he’s just human.

Banner sighed, and slid his glasses across the bridge of his nose “What does this mean for us then? We just give in to the Sokovia Accords? Give in to the U.N?”

T’Challa replied with a dry, tight smile. He knew politics, the history of accords and treaties like these. The U.N could make up this large, extravagant plans, but in reality, who was going to enforce them? In what world would all of these countries, over 100, agree on what to do on these so called war criminals? The Sokovia Accords was simply a flashback on history. It was bound to repeat itself.

“In a world built on war, I would like to see them try to work together and agree for a common purpose” The young king chuckled dryly.

Diplomacy? Even if he only became king recently, he knew enough that diplomacy doesn't go very far. That kind of peace is too fragile to withstand this.


	9. The Man Who Sold The Wolrd

_He said I was his friend_  
_Which came as a surprise_  
_I spoke into his eyes_  
 _I thought you died alone_  
 _A long long time ago_

-The Man Who Sold The World(David Bowie)

* * *

 

_Upstate New York_

_...He was turned to steel_  
_in the great magnetic field_  
When he travelled time  
for the future of mankind…

The heavy, death metal song blasted into Tony's ears, as the sound screeching metal was a simply tune that blended into the song. The screeching, heavy metal tune was made by none other than Black Sabbath. It wasn't exactly the happiest song in the world, probably nothing he should be listening to in the state he's in, but it helped him. It pulled his subconscious from his tourchered thoughts and stuck in a place where not even the worst of his mind could reach. It was like white noise.

The billionaire was in the basement of the compound for the 5th hour, wearing nothing more than pants, a tank top, and a thick layer of sweat. He made it into his own workshop, where he spent countless hours working on everything from his suits, to the toaster. Sometimes he would just break the toaster on purpose just to have an excuse to lock himself in there and ‘fix’ it. He probably spent more time in the dark basement than sleeping.

Other than the multiple scientist and others who worked actively at the compound, him, Rhodey, and Vision were the only left. Natasha had to leave as soon as she could, considering T’Challa basically stuck a wanted sign on her back. As soon as Ross came to the compound, there was no trace of her. Stark simply shrugged his shoulders when he was asked of her whereabouts, an extravagant story that Ross wouldn't buy, but their wasn't really anything they could do. In general, it just pissed off the Secretary of State.

Tony's shiny, blade cut through the soft, grey metal like butter. Bright, orange sparks flew everywhere, like a small fireworks show. A small dull bang was heard when the blade made contact with the workbench. What was left was two, rough slabs of sheet metal, perfect for his next project, a remake of the Mark VII, or now, Mark VIII.

The song suddenly cut out, leaving the sound of screeching metal to fill the air. Tony clicked his large saw off, and gave a frustrated sigh.

_Secretary Ross is on the line_ , FRIDAY said in a smooth, buttery tone.

“How urgent?” Stark asked, as he raised up his plastic glasses up his head

_He says it's extremely urgent_

“Eh,” Shrugging, he slid his construction glasses back up nose “Then he can wait a few” ignoring the Secretary entirely, he roared his saw and music back to life and rammed the saw blade into another chunk of metal. It was a shame he couldn't see the red blinking light on the phone right about now, with a furious Ross at the other end of the line. He could only imagine the snarl on his bright red face right about now.

The music cut off once again, causing Tony to release a loud, dramatic groan, louder than the screech on the metal he was cutting. He tossed the saw aside, and traced his fingers over his sweaty temple.

“Oh god, FRIDAY, I-” he was about to rant off.

“That was me, Mr. Stark” That familiar, synthetic accent rang out. Tony drew his eyes to the stairs to a calm and collected Vision, with his hand on a small control panel. He lists his hand from it, and phased right through the glass door separating the stairwell from the basement.

“Secretary Ross requests your presence”

“Of course he does...” The billionaire replied sarcastically “He can wait, he's a ‘patient’ kind of guy”

“He said the matter was of utmost urgency”

Tony scoffed, as he picked up his saw once more “Yeah, what else is new?”

“I don't think you should ignore this, Secretary Ross sounded very serious about the matter over the line”

“I'm not ignoring it, I'm forgetting it”

“It's about Captain Rogers”

Tony wiped all the sarcasm from his face in a flash. He snapped his head up, staring right into Vision’s bright blue eyes, almost glaring. It was like he went from 0 to 100 in an instant. But it was clear to vision. And it wasn't just about the phone call either

* * *

 “My god Tony, you look like hell”

It was the first thing Ross said when Stark appeared on his side of the screen. With squinted eyes, the Secretary curiously scanned Tony's attire, which was still the sweat soaked tank top and rugged jeans from his workshop. Even his usually gelled hair was wet, and hung over on his red forehead. Considering the ‘urgency’ of the call, Tony didn't bother to change, he just answered the call.

“I didn't know I had to answer in a suit and tie” Tony sarcastically shrugged.

“That's not what I'm talking about” Ross raised a brow. Tony knew. He saw his tired, death like expression through the reflection of the shiny blade earlier on. Heavy, dark circled traced under his red, drooping eyes. Deep wrinkles lines his forehead and around his drooping mouth. Prickly dark hair grew from his chin, in need of a decent shave. He rivaled the Winter Soldier's ‘homeless’ look.

“Spending too much time at the golf course?” The secretary replied in a snarky voice.

“Yeah, I can't seem to hit that hole in one” Tony said, calling his bluff.

“Have a cigar and a big glass of whisky and you'll be fine. Before you know it, you won't be able to shut your eyes”

“I'll take that into consideration,” Tony wearily rubbed his eyes “But enough with the hospitality, which was lack luster, by the way. What do you want?”

Ross straightened his posture out, and put his hands behind his back “I'm positive you've heard about the incident regarding Rogers and his team of vigilantes a few days ago”

His mind drew to a complete blank. Tony must have spent more time in his workshop than he originally thought. He didn't even remember the last time he bothered to look at the news.

“I'm in a memory lapse right now, so if you could catch me up, that would be helpful” He blatantly lied.

Ross saw right through his bluff, and sighed “A few days ago, a small city in California was bombed. We had the FBI investigate and found that the all the evidence of the bombing leads to Rogers, Lang, Wilson, and Maximoff”

Tony blinked in surprise. He certainly wasn't expecting that. In fact, he expected some kind of blurry, horrible photo of Steve, expecting Ross to simply say they spotted him. Ross sure found Rogers alright.

“I don’t think I heard the right. They WHAT?” Stark shot Ross a puzzled yet shocked stare.

“Their was clear evidence of Rogers initiating this bombing, Stark. Bomb shards, bodies, even a couple of witnesses. All of this points to _them_ ”

“Then tell me how you think Rogers and his rag-tag team of vigilantes got their hands on a bomb” Stark raised his brow.

“It's simple. Pressure cooker bomb. FBI found it through the debris. Small enough to hide, but boy can it knock an entire building down. I'm sure any soldier can build a homemade bomb, hell, I even did in my first tour”

“So, you called me to say Captain Rogers is back on the radar? That's it?” Stark asked. For he was honest, that wasn't very big news.

Ross shot the billionaire a glare “Rogers was always under the radar, ever since he got out of the ice. What happened over six months ago was a complete mistake on his part. He didn't only protect one of the greatest assassins to ever step foot, he put everyone in danger. Dozens of people are dead now because of him, and it could have easily been solved if he just cooperated and let us deal with Barnes” His voice became stiff, as his face became incredibly flushed.

“Rogers _protected_ and _helped_ a HYDRA assassin carry out his duty, and I'm dead sure NO one in their right mind will tolerate his inexcusable behavior! He is explicitly working for god damm HYDRA!” Ross followed with a heavy, shaky breath of air. His tight fist was jitter ring like a leaf. His face was red, like he was left out in the sun to get a tan. Tony could practically see the Secretary dropping from a heart attack at any second.

“You're telling me Rogers was a HYDRA agent all along?” Tony asked forcefully. He smelled complete and utter bullshit. Sure, Steve had his moments, but HYDRA? That was like saying the Mandarin was an actual threat to the world, the one that drank beer all day and watched freaking football.

The Secretary took a deep breath, causing the incredibly red color to drain away from his face. “Tony, he protected Barnes. And Barnes has taken away dozens of lives. What other explanation is there?”

Tony was about to call out for Steve, protect his name from HYDRA, but something stopped him from opening his mouth. It was Barnes. Steve was protecting the murder of countless people. Including his father and mom.

And that can't be ever forgiven.

Tony drew his head down to the ground, and sighed “And everyone is on board with this?”

“President Ellis and I discussed this in a meeting along with the rest congress. He didn't agree with everything, but even he deemed it necessary to put a stop to Barnes and Rogers” Ross explained.

“If you're expecting me to get on board with all of this, consider it a no” Tony replied in a steel tongue. He didn't want to get involved with any of the other ex-Avengers again. If it wasn't a huge threat to all of humanity, he wanted to stay out.

“Consider it an order by the Sokovia Accords, Tony” Ross snapped back “The U.N is holding a conference tonight on who is going to take in or take out Rogers and Barnes. And if I were you, I'd start packing a suitcase”

The transmission suddenly flickered out, leaving a black, blank screen in front of the mixed billionaire.

Tony was at a loss for words. His mind and heart were drowned with so many mixed emotions, he simply stood in front of the black screen for countless minutes just to take it in. Not only was Rogers and his crew back on the government's radar, they were accused HYDRA agents. He knew if Rogers faced the government, bullets would fly, and people would die. Too many to count.

The only thing he could think of to clear his mind was not mindlessly fixing random objects. He needed something far stronger than that. And that of course was in liquor cabinet.

5 minutes later, he had a big glass and a big bottle of expensive tequila, which he grabbed from his huge selection from the liquor cabinet. He could run his own bar from the ridiculous amount of alcohol he had stored in the Avengers compound. It probably wasn't the best idea to store alcohol and drinks around iconic and unstable superheroes, but Stark being Stark, alcohol would be in the mix somehow.

He popped of the cap of the glass bottle and poured until the clear liquid just touched the rim of the glass cup. Leaving the bottle open for a future drink, he settled into his barstool and glared right at the tequila. He gently ran his finger around the rim of the glass, creating tiny ripples of his stone faced reflection through the clear tequila.

The man who started back in that reflection at Tony seemed utterly lost. His dull brown eyes screamed back him, shouting that he was tired of everything. He didn't want to lift another damn finger for anyone, let alone himself. The man just wanted to shut out the world around him and lock himself in his own head, only to leave behind a hollow form of himself.

As he brought the cup to his lips, he heard the slow, loud footsteps that echoed out through the room. It could only come from one man.

“Jesus Tony, I didn't know you were still alive” Stark jerked his head to a smirking Rhodey, who tightly hung onto a metal rail attached to the bar top. He slowly positioned himself on a bar stool, then collapsed onto it's leather skin.

Tony shrugged, pulling his drink away from his mouth “Then this tequila here brought me back to life” he raised his cup, even if he hadn't had one sip of it yet.

“I mean, you've been locking yourself down in the basement working on whatever you can get your hands on. Don't you get tired of it?”

“Not really. It's what I do. I wait for the breakdown later” The billionaire said as he took a few gulp of tequila.

Rhodey sighed, and grabbed a small shot glass that sat on the bar top “I know what you're doing Tony, and pushing it in the back your heads only gonna make it hurt worse later”

Tony knew exactly what he was talking about. He was usually good at burying his true feelings under meaningless work and quipping, but this was different. This struck home a little too deep.

“You're gonna have to deal with Barnes somehow, but killing him won't fix a damn thing. And pushing him out of your mind isn't helping either” Rhodey pointed out, grabbing the glass bottle and pouring a little in his shot glass.

“I might not have a choice” Tony replied, as he turned his head towards his friend.

Rhodey raised his brow in puzzlement “What do you mean…?”

“Secretary Ross called, and basically said to get off my ass and start searching for Barnes” Tony replied, leaving out a few key components, but to Tony, this was in between the lines.

“Because of the whole HYDRA cap fiasco, right?” Rhodey asked. Tony nodded slightly.

Stark sighed, and dug his hand into his face “You know, if Steve didn't screw up and just hand in Barnes, none of this would have happened. Rogers and the others wouldn't be ‘vigilantes’, Barton and Romanoff wouldn't be god knows where, and you wouldn't…” He trailed off, refusing to bring up his friend's incident.

“What's done is done” Rhodey replied in a much colder tone. Before he could say anything else, he zipped his mouth by chugging down his shot.

“And Barnes…” Tony left a bitter silence “If he was taken down like he should have been...all of us wouldn't be in this fuck-fest”

Rhodey gave an exasperated sigh “You know, I read a little about him in his files. HYDRA really screwed him up”

“So what? You're protecting him now or something?” Tony snapped back.

“I never said that”

“Just because you didn't say it doesn't mean it's implied”

“Tony’” Rhodey raised his voice a little, and intensely stared into friends eyes “Look, I know Barnes killed your parents, and a lot of other people. I know he's unstable and hard to control, but let the UN deal with it. I'm not trying to say to screw off the accords, but don't try to bring him justice or whatever you called it. You'll just make things worse”

He snorted “For who?”

“Yourself. Cause killing him won't make you feel any better”

Tony tried to listen, but whatever Rhodey tried to stuff down his throat was just meaningless crap. If their was one person who knew him best, it was none other than the snarky billionaire himself. And he knew the man who should take the blame for everything, it was Bucky Barnes. He killed countless people without consequence. Brainwashing or not, Tony knew he deserved justice.

Even if it was by his own hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more of Tony for you. Also, if you get the song reference in the fic itself, I tip my hat to you! If not, look it up, and his love for Black Sabbath will make A LOT of sense. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


	10. Something To Believe In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Italics) - Translations
> 
> Italics - Reading/small flashbacks

_It gets old when you talk to the sun_   
_In a tongue understood by no one_   
_Can it be that I hear what he's saying?_   
_Is there a reason why I'm still awake?_

_And he says, "I've got you written in a black book by the railroad track. You see, I know your fate."_  
 _And I say, "you've got to listen, I'm a songbird with a brand new track. You underestimate._ "

-Something To Believe in(Young The Giant)

* * *

 

 

_Berlin, Germany_

_Click_

Bucky cocked his pistol. He took a glance around the gun itself, carefully scanning around every little bump and valley, as though any flaw would ruin his plan. When he seemed satisfied, he carefully lined up the pistol next to a few other weapons. On the table inside a small, beaten down hotel sat two pistols, one machine pistol, 3 small boxes of bullet rounds, and two small pocket knifes, all lined up perfectly in a row. This wasn’t overkill to him, this was just being prepared. Even if he was in that Berlin prison before, he had no idea what the security would be. They probably amped up security since the ‘incident’

He squinted his eyes, with a painful memory cut itself through his head. Glimpses of his metal fist slamming into security men’s and police’s head sat fresh in his mind. He could recall the sickening cracks that vibrated through his arm when he slammed his fist into their heads. He remembered the ungodly shapes of their heads when he drew his metal fist away, like a deep crater, with bloody shards of bones that barely poked out of their skin. The memory of his latest Winter Soldier attack only made him want to go back into cryo.

_“Stop Buck, you're gonna kill someone!”_

He slowly rose his head from the mess of his hair, and glanced at the lethal weapons that sat before him. No, Steve, wasn’t going to kill anyone, even if they tried to kill him. At worst, he would just shoot their legs, maybe arms. But he was going to stay away from the torso, especially his chest. Although he never promised it to Steve, he wasn’t going to take another life again. He desperately didn’t want to add another soul to his already full death tally. He didn't want to add more red to his ledger, it was already soaked and dripping. He just wanted to be human.

Sighing, he picked up one of the knifes from the table, and stuffed it inside his coat pocket. He had a vague idea of his plan to get his prized backpack back, but just like any mission, not everything goes as planned.

* * *

He pulled a blue, logo cap tightly over his head, tucking his long, brown hair inside. That navy blue cap he wore for only so many days sat on top of a thin, unconscious man who was thrown aside next to him.

It was all a coincidence really. He first arrived at the prison, and simply just glanced around crowd of people who entered the exited the prison. He had a vague plan; look for a pattern of people who entered the prison and pose as one of them. However, since he failed to see the _No Loitering_ sign, he was pulled aside by a security guard. Right as the security guard’s eyes lit up, at realization of Bucky’s identity, he punched his lights out. A few swift punches to the side of the guards head caused him to go limp and slam into the floor. Then a lightbulb went over his head.

Bucky pulled a small, plastic ID card from his breast pocket, and glanced around the information. He looked almost nothing like the man whose picture was plastered on the card, but it was better than nothing.

He wasn't Bucky anymore, he was Adel Weber.

He clipped back the ID tag back to his pocket, and glanced down to the limp body. He was going to have to do something with the guard. He couldn't just leave him in what looked like a puddle of thick, black oil on the ground.

The brain haired man grunted as he swung the guards body over his shoulder, scanning around his surrounding for a place to hide him. Their wasn't many places to hide a body in an alley, maybe except the dumpster. But he needed more security than that.

The body swing back and forth as Bucky twisted his waist. He carefully placed the limo guard on the ground, next to a thick and rusted pipe. From his pockets, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed the security guard’s hand to the pipe.

He breathed an internal sigh of relief, and turned around. His steel blue eyes drew to a grey door, with a large door handle. He walked over and tried to jam the door open, but barely budged. As he tried to jerk the long knob, he noticed a small, thin slot in the handle of the door. He recognized it, but not from the prison. From HYDRA.

He yanked his ‘borrowed’ ID card from his pocket, and pulled out the plastic card. He gently stuck the card inside, and yanked on the door knob once more. Miraculously, the door, clicked and opened, revealing a long hallway with people in suits strolling along it. He suspiciously glared around the hallway, as he pulled the ID card out and stuffed it back into it's clear, thin sleeve.

The ex-winter soldier gently shut the heavy door, and made his way down the hall. He hung his head down low, to draw away any attention to him. He feverishly glanced around his new surroundings, planning out escape routes and ways to run. A few doors lined the hallway, equipt with key card door handles and a huge glass window that revealed its contents. So far, Bucky only saw office spaces and people on computers. Certainly nothing that's useful to him.

A muffled, staticky voice caused him to jump a little in surprise. He glanced around his surroundings in search of its source, but found nothing. Squinting in puzzlement, he traced his fingers around his uniform, and felt a large, plastic box like object. He pulled it from his waist, and revealed a large walkie-talkie. The uncomprevoice voice still escaped the small machine, like a child demanding attention.

"Adel! Adel?!" The voice screamed at him.

Bucky pressed the button on the side "Ja...? _(yeah...?)_ " He responded in uncertainty.

"Was zum Teufel machst du da? Ich habe für Sie angerufen! _(What the hell were you doing? I've been calling for you!)_ "

"Es...tut mir lei _d(I'm...sorry)_ " The brown haired man practically whispered back.

"Ok, Was auch immer. Die brauchen Sie in den Kontrollraum. Sie brauchen einen Draht oder so etwas _(Okay, whatever. They need you in the control room. They need a wire or something)_ "

The static cut off, leaving Bucky at a loss. He still had a mission to accomplish, but if he didn't answer this, surely people would know something was up. That would blow his already thin cover. So, in a snap decision, he searched for this control room.

He stepped down some stairs, and scanned his eyes for any signs of the room. He walked and walked, until he came down another flight of stairs to a empty, dimply lit hallway. Streaks of hard water stained the concrete walls, as the lights flickered about, like poorly lit fireflies. He slowly stepped down the hall, his boots echoing throughout the hallway. At the end was a water stained metal door, with a small window covered in wire.

Kontrollraum

_Control room_

He cautiously stepped towards the rusted door, and scanned around for a key slot. Instead of the fancy technology that lined the other doors, the door in front of the Winter Soldier was simply a regular knob. He tightly grabbed it's cold handle and entered the room.

The first thing that hit Bucky was its muggy, mildew smell, like it was just flooded up. It was huge, spanning in many directions and lined with metal stairs and walkways. Wires, pipes, and even an air conditioning unit was spread across the entire room, creating an urban jungle feel. Although it was lit a little better than the hallway, pockets of darkness sat in corners. To the brown haired man, this was the power room, where everything electronic was feeding electricity from.

"Adel?" A voice echoed through the darkness. A man suddenly emerged from the shadows, wearing a dark blue jumpsuit piece, with a wrench in his hand. For a second, a goofy smile was plastered on his face, until he got a glimpse of 'Adel'. The man's pleasant expression was blown away, and replaced with fear.

The man eyes widened "Warten, Sie sind nicht... _(Wait, you're not...)_ ”

Bucky froze in place, gazing his steel blue eyes into the man's eyes. He was waiting, calculating his next move.

The man with his shaky hand whipped out his walkie-talkie "Ich brauche Sicherheit Re- _(I need security ri-)"_

Bucky suddenly grabbed a pistol from his pocket and pressed the trigger, aiming right at the man. Before the terrified employee could react, the bullet exploded into the electronic communicator, causing it to shatter into the man's shaking hands. He fearfully glanced at the now destroyed plastic shards in his hands, then at the icy blue eyed man glaring back at him.

The man suddenly snarled, and made a mad dash at Bucky, waving his wrench high up in the air. The brown haired soldier delivered a blowing uppercut kick to the man's head, causing it to snap to the side. His head slammed into a rusted pipe, the sound ringing throughout the control room. He, like a drunk man, lazily stumbled back and forth, his eyes fluttering, trying to get a grip. Seconds later, the employee collapsed to the concrete ground, in front of Bucky.

Calculating response time, He figured he had three minutes to make a plan and escape before actual security would slam open that door and raise their guns to his head. He feverishly glanced around for anything to buy him some time, something useful. His eye caught a small, locked up box that sat in the corner of the room, that read Schalttafel _(Control Panel)_. As he jogged up to the metal box, he noticed a thick lock that hung down. He pulled out his machine pistol from his pant pocket and shot at the lock a few times. Each bullet penetrated through the lock, until it finally split open and fell to the ground.

He quickly pried open the box to be meet with lines upon lines of thick wires, with many different colors. An idea planted in his head.

He stuffed his gun back in his pocket and pulled out a thick knife from his shirt. He grabbed onto a thick bundle of wires and started to saw away at them. As he snapped through each wire, things and machines around him started to shut off. He heard whistling cease, motors turn off, dials click. His new plan was working perfectly.

When he sawed through the last wire, the lights flickered off, leaving utter darkness and complete silence. Bucky shoved the knife back in his pocket and jogged to the door. He made his way through the hallway again and took the flight of stairs. Hanging his head down low, his eyes scanned around the new chaos he created. People were running in every direction, screaming at each other. A bright, flickering red light blinked above Bucky, creating an ominous feel.

As people piled out of rooms, he glanced into them, in search of anything that would remotely look like his prized backpack. With every door however, he only found empty, red lit rooms.

As he made his way through a long stretching hallway with large windows on both sides, he felt something brush against his metal shoulder. He glanced behind him to see another security guard, glaring back at him.

"Hallo! Sehen Sie, w- _(Hey! Watch whe-)_ " He cut himself off, and suspiciously squinted at the ex-Winter Soldier. That was already enough for Bucky.

  
He suddenly bolted off, darting towards the end off the hall. Yelling and screams filled his ear, but were drowned out by the his pulse, drumming in his ear. He ducked when he heard bullets fly right past him, crashing into the wall behind.

He skidded and made a sharp turn at a corner. He darted past and shoved countless people out of his way, pushing them into one another. He quickly glanced back to see a few other guards were on his tail. Bullets whizzed past his ear, shattering glass and digging out small pieces of concrete from the wall. Glass and his own ratty hair flew into his sweaty face, shielding his view.

As he reached the end of the hall, he saw a metal rail in the distance. He quickly slammed into the rail, and flew over. His body flew through the air, until he slammed into the tile floor a story down. His head slammed right into the hard flooring first, blurring his vision. He groaned as he tried to pick himself up from the floor, but a mysterious force seemed to weigh his body down.

Above him, all he could see was a blurred white shape, with little details. A smaller, darker shaper emerged into view, and seemed to point down at him. Then he heard a loud click. His eyes widened.

Bucky swung his body beneath the large platform, with a rain of bullets following his trail. He quickly stumbled to his feet, and made a mad dash down another hallway.

His mission was still fresh in his mind, even in danger, he glanced through the windows for his memory backpack. Shaped blurred past his view, anything from foggy chairs to blurred out tables.

Then he something familiar caught his eye. And it wasn't his backpack.

Through the thick glass, he saw that awfully familiar small, leather red book, with a tattered black star in the middle. It's rectangular shape lightly glowed in the darkness of the room, as the red lights blinked through it.

With the power completely out, he easily opened the door and jogged to the book. That was it, his trigger words, sitting in a small book. Almost no one knew what power that book held. With a just a few words, he was completely helpless, and under control, like a puppet.

He grabbed it, revealing another book underneath. His eyes flicked with interest. He carefully set the trigger book aside, and thumbed through the other book, revealing written words. Like a journal. His journal.

His steel blue eyes lit up in pure joy. Ever since his backpack went missing, worry ate at his mind. Now he felt a load had just been taken off his shoulders.

He snapped his head back up, and feverishly scanned around the room for the rest of his prized possessions. He saw his backpack, sitting in a large basket in the corner of the room. He quickly ran to the backpack, and fumbled his fingers around for the zipper. When he pried it open, he immediately thumbed through its contents, counting his all his journals. With all his journals accounted for, he stuffed his other journal inside and zipped it up. As he swung his prized backpack over his shoulder, he glanced back at his trigger book. There was no way in hell he was going to leave it here.

As he slid the red book across the table to himself, a yellow pad caught his eye. It sat on the furthest corner of the table, along with a black pen that was tight against its yellow paper. Curious, he slid the pad to himself, and glanced through it. It was written in messy German, but Bucky could make it out.

_Records are for Journal no.3 from James Buchanan Barnes. Language shifts for every sentence or so, often in between sentences. Recorded Languages include: German, English, Spanish, French, Italian, and Russian. Most used Languages are English and Russian. Patient shows clear signs of depersonalization disorder. Before corrections, most likely made by himself, referred to James Buchanan Barnes life as another's, not himself. It's not clear who he refers himself as of today. From brief psychoanalysis from months before with patient, Multiple personalities disorder is clear, but it's unknown what may have set him off. Possibilities include bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, or PTSD. Patient may also have dissociative amnesia, as these journals are of his history, and not of everyday life._

He didn't know what to make of it. Half of the information he couldn't make out, but the eternity of it was clear: His mind was still in pieces. HYDRA, like a parasite, was still crawling around in his head, eating away his already burnt out brain. Bucky just wanted to rip what HYDRA left in his head out. He wanted to be free. Even if he wasn't under HYDRA’s fist, he was still trapped in their chains.

He tossed the pad away, like a disease, and quickly scattered from the room. He peaked his head into the dimly lit hall, but only the shouts of people ran through the halls. He carefully snuck out, scanning all around his surroundings like a radar. He just needed a way out at this point.

After minutes of aimlessly searching for an escape, he went down another flight of stairs in search of some kind of door. As he walked down the hall, he saw a red glimmer at the end, reflecting into his eyes. In hope of escape, he quickly looked behind himself and made a dart for it. When he reached the glimmering light however, it wasn't a door he found. It was someone much worse.

"...So it was you, Soldier, who did this..." A tired, familiar accent whispered.

Behind a thick glass window, in a small chair, clamped down with metal clamps, was none other than Baron Zemo. His cheeks sunk into his face, as were his clear, blue eyes that seemed to have died long ago. He had a little stubble that grew around his chin and face, as though he was growing into another phase into his 'homeless' attire. His hair grew a little long, but sat neatly around his face, brushed back like it was before.

"Are you here to kill me, soldier?" Zemo brought a hint of a smile to his face, like hope "I wouldn't mind a bullet in my head"

Bucky bore his eyes into Zemo's, analyzing him. What made the ex-Winter Soldier uneasy was that he was serious. But was made his stomach turn was that only months ago, he felt the same exact way.

"I'm not gonna kill anyone" He replied in a quiet voice.

The trapped man chuckled dryly "But you are the Winter Soldier. It's in your nature"

"I'm not that anymore"

Zemo's smile washed off, and turned his face into a blank slate.

"But you are that. Like those other Winter Soldiers, killing is what makes you whole. And like the others, killing is what makes you, you, Bucky"

Before Bucky could react, the hallway filled with gunfire. Bullets flew and whizzed past his head and body, crashing into the glass behind him. Zemo in his jail box widened his eyes in surprise, but quickly washed his shock off. Instead, he replaced it with a ghost of a smile.

"What will you do, soldier?" Zemo cruelly whispered through the bullets, filling Bucky's head.

He scanned in front, to see a few guards with pistols in their hands, inching their way closer. With almost no plan, he made a dart towards the guards. Their eyes widened in fear, and clamped on to their small pistols tighter. More gunfire exploded, but guns weren't match for the brown haired man.

Bucky clamped his hand on the barrel of one of the guards pistols and swung it into another security guards head. The guard crumpled to the ground like paper. He yanked the pistol out of the other guards hand and planted his boot into his stomach. The guard flew and violently hit the wall, causing him to slump down lazily down the wall.

Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through his shoulder, causing him stop to groan in pain. He ran his fingers arose his painful shoulder, and felt a sticky, wet substance coat his shirt. He pulled back and saw his fingers coated in a thick layer of blood. He was shot.

He felt a swift kick to his knee, causing him to jerk into the wall. He turned to see the last guard, snarling with his fists up. As the guard went to deliver a punch, Bucky grabbed his fist and swung him into the wall. His head slammed into the wall, before he collapsed on the ground.

Anxious, he scanned around the room one last time, and faced Zemo in the distance. The only thing he was was his glaring, glowing eyes. That said enough to the ex-Winter Soldier.

Bucky ran. He wasn't only trying to escape the police. He was trying to escape Zemo's words that haunted his mind.

_"Killing is what makes you, you, Bucky"_


	11. Us and Them

_Down (down, down, down, down)_   
_And out (out, out, out, out)_   
_It can't be helped that there's a lot of it about_   
_With (with, with, with), without_   
_And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?_

-Us and Them(Pink Floyd)

* * *

 

_San Francisco, California_

"Hey tic-tac, this the place you're talking about?" Sam asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Stopping on the sidewalk, he glanced around the dated, wooden mansion that was tucked away in the thick shrubbery that surrounded all around it. A few fences set up high shielded the windows, even if they were draped with thick cloth curtains. It looked like one of those houses that the neighborhood kids would run terrified of, because it was hiding a dark, sinister secret. In fact, it was about to hide a secret in a few seconds, the secret of the ex-Avengers.

Scott nodded, with a slight grin "Yeah. Come on" He waved his hand, motioning the others to follow him up the stairs.

They would have taken their beaten up sedan to the house, but Scott ended up pointing out technology at its finest, in other words, the police tracking down license plate numbers. Steve was forced to ditch the car on the outskirts of town, and had to walk all the way to Pym's house, and look inconspicuous at the same time. It wasn't an easy feat, considering his thick hat almost blew right off his head from the breezy wind 4 times. Probably more, if Scott continued the count.

"Are you sure we will be hidden here?" Wanda asked in uncertainty, considering the house was smack dab in the middle of a neighborhood.

Scott replied with a short chuckle "If I could escape jail without being caught here, I think we're good"

"Escape from jail...?"

A pause went between the two "The, uh...the details don't matter..."

Steve hoped he was right. He knew he didn't have many options left, anyways. It was here or running aimlessly across the country, like a chicken with its head cut off. He wanted to keep this small team safe, because of anything happened to them, it would be his fault no matter what. Sometimes being the leader had its price.

Steve rapped on the door a couple of times, until Pym revealed his face from the door.

"Captain Rogers," Pym greeted in a blank tone. He waved his hand, and rushed everyone inside. Before he closed the door, he peeked carefully outside, glaring around for anyone.

"So...is uh...Hope here?" Scott asked nervously.

Hank closed the door "No Scott, she's on what she called a 'business' trip. In others words, she cleaning up the crap from Pym industries"

"The crap?" The brain haired man twisted his head in confusion.

"I'm sure you recall that we blew it to hell"

"Oh...that" Scott went quiet, leaving a thick air of silence.

Until Steve cut through it like a knife "Dr. Pym" He held out his hand, which Hank swiftly shook.

"I appreciate what you're doing for us. We need all the help we can get" Steve added in.

Hank replied with a tight lipped smile "I'm sure you do" He took his hand back "We can finish this in the kitchen. I got a pot of tea brewing anyways, and it's not going to drink itself"

Minutes later, the ex-avengers and Hank sat at the small kitchen table, with a cup of tea at hand.

"Do you have an ant problem or something? Because you have shitload of ants everywhere" Sam sat awkwardly on his seat, as ants of all kinds basically surrounded the table, and the floor.

"Sam..." Steve sighed.

"What? Is it the comment about the ants or the language problem?"

"Son of a bitch, not this again..." Steve buried his hand in his forehead in frustration. Just when he thought he escaped the torment of 'language', it came back at him and basically slapped him in the face.

Pym ignored their side comments "No, and don't touch them. You'll just aggravate them"

Hank paused, and pushed up his glasses up the bridge of his nose "So, I heard you and Stark had a little disagreement about the Accords"

"Do you agree with them?" Steve asked.

"To a certain extent. I think it's fair to say the Avengers had their share of destruction, but to put them under a government agenda is an entirely different situation. Then everything fell apart when that Stark signed with them" Hank shrugged.

"So it's about Stark?"

Hank sighed "It's apart of it. Let's just say I had my fair share of government involvement, and it didn't end very well"

"SHIELD?"

Hank raised his brow "And you know this because?"

The blond soldier sighed, and looked into his tea "Before SHIELD fell apart, Fury allowed a few files of classified information about Peggy to be read. I read about you, briefly"

How Steve missed Peggy. He couldn't think of the memories about her before he simply lost it and had to run away, away from his mind. She was buried deep inside his head, like Bucky was.

"Agent Carter..." Hank trailed off, as he thought of the work he did with her in the once prominent SHIELD.

Wanda ran her finger in a circle over and over again around the rim of her cup, lost in her head. She wanted to feel like she could be protected and safe here, but the butterflies in her stomach said differently. She simply felt like this was just another stop on their journey until they were attacked again.

"How long will we be safe here..." The enhanced girl muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Pym slightly lifted his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Will we be safe?" Wanda said with a hint of anger.

Pym replied with another tight lipped smile, except this time, it only read sadness "I can't promise one damn thing. Sure, the government came a few days ago about Scott, but who's to say they won't charge in again? I can do everything in my power to keep everyone hidden, but it's a crapshoot. Nothing's certain"

Wanda only blinked in response, before she knelt her head down back to her cold cup of tea.

Hank took a long sip of his tea "Besides, your not staying here for long anyways"

Steve snapped his head up "I thought the plan was staying here"

"Well the 'plan' wasn't created by me. This is just a stop"

The captain shot a look of worry towards Sam, who only shrugged. Steve sighed, and sent weary eye towards the older billionaire.

"What are you trying to say...?" Steve responded with a tinge of suspicion traced in his voice.

"I'm saying that a certain 'friend' was looking you, and it's wasn't Nick Fury"

A light buzz went through the air, catching the attention of Hank. He pulled out a phone from his shirt pocket and glanced at the message.

"And it looks like your 'friend' is finally here" He slid his phone back in his pocket and stood up from the table, and waved his hand, motioning Steve to answer the door.

"Your 'friend' is at the yard door, by the way, for...protective measures" Hank added in. Steve shot one more suspicious glance at Hank, but walked away anyways. He didn't know if he could trust Pym, let alone if he should. The only thing that was going for him was his loathe and distrust of the Stark's, which seemed to have helped Steve so far. But there had to be a point where it the thought of Stark simply disappeared, and what was left was the thought of the Accords and criminal punishment.

He didn't have many options, so he just had to go along with this.

When Steve reached the door, a soft, hollow shadow stood on the other side of the door. He couldn't make out who this 'friend' could be, just from a shadow. He released a huge breath of air, and opened the door. His clear blue eyes shifted to shock.

"Captain Rogers," the man put on his classic tight smile "Its nice to finally see you again"

Agent Coulson.

* * *

  _Upstate New York_

“And that's the last of it…”Tony grunted as he plopped his portable iron man suit onto the metallic work table. Satisfied, he brushed his hands of oil from his hands.

He glanced at the small, dirty flip phone that sat on another work table. It was coated in a thin layer of dust, obvious that it it hasn't been touched in months. It was the phone Steve sent him, in case of an ‘emergency’. Steve was going to have a huge emergency, alright.

Tony had a small feeling in his gut that told him she should take it, just in case anything went wrong with Ross and his outrageous accords that targeted him. On the other hand, Steve drove himself into this mess. It was only natural that he was going to get caught. It was only right that he would get thrown in jail. It was only for safety that he would stay locked up, far away from his Bucky. He didn't know where his brainwashed assassin was with Steve, but Tony was sure they were they had eachothers backs. He didn't need him.

So, instead, he grabbed his own phone on the metallic table and stuffed it into his pocket, leaving the little flip phone to rest alone in its pile of dust.

The sound of a loud, shrill squeak caused him to whip his head towards the entrance of his workshop. He dropped everything he was doing and immediately ran to Rhodey, who was clinging onto the metal rail down with all his might as he went down the basement stairs. His fragile legs shook violently, even making his support leg system quiver about.

“Rhodey!” Tony yelled as he slammed open the glass door, and ran up the stairs “Man, if you fall, you're gonna kill yourself!”

His friend only chuckled in response, as he clutched onto Stark’s arm “I'm not gonna fall Tony, I'm fine”

“Yeah, say that to my arm…” Tony grunted as he felt Rhodey’s hands dig into his flesh.

Tony carefully lead Rhodey down the stairs, slowly stepping down each small step. With each step, Rhodey made a jerky, heavy step down, speaking along with his leg support system.

“What has the purple magic marker been feeding you? You feel...puffer” Tony quipped, causing Rhodey to roll his eyes.

“Ha, ha very funny” Rhodey said sarcastically. Stark eventually lead him down the flight of stairs. Since he didn't have much in terms of a sitting space in his dank workshop, he set his friend to lean on one of his work tables.

“So, when are you leaving?” Rhodey asked.

Tony shrugged in response and pulled out his phone “Ross said when he dropped me a line, I should get my ass outta here”

“Why not leave now?”

“I'm trying to savor my last minutes of freedom,” Stark leaned back with his hands behind his head “And speaking of freedom…” He peaked from the corner do his eye towards Rhodey, sending him a message.

Rhodey replied with a small grin and waved his hands innocently in the air “Ok, Ok I get the point, I'm leaving” He grunted as he lifted his himself from the table and slowly shuffled from the room, like a little old man who used a cane.

He twisted his head as his hand cling onto the rail once more “And Tony, do me a favor”,

“Yes?” Tony crossed his arms and raised his brow.

“Don't try to kill anyone until you get back” A tight smile crises his ages before he disappeared above the staircase.

Tony gave a tired sigh and whispered “Can't promise that”

He vaguely knew that Rhodey was making a joke to him, a small chuckle to get his mind off of working under Ross and the Accords, but he still took it with the utmost seriousness. It was unlike him to take things seriously, especially in dire situations, but ever since he saw the smiling photo of that dead boy from Sokovia, the game has changed.

Speaking of the Accords, somethings till rubbed the billionaire the wrong way. It wasn't directly about the accords, but rather about a certain blond fellow who was running away from them. What Secretary Ross told him about ‘bombing’ a small California city seemed unusual for a man who's trying to hide from the government, not attract them. He was pretty sure Steve wouldn't just blow up a place, and even if he wanted to, he would find another way that didn't attract the media.

“Hey FRIDAY, bring up everything you got in the media tagged with Steve Rogers or Captain America within the past week” Tony commanded, as he walked up to a large screen that sat at the end of the workshop. Suddenly the screen flickered to life and started to pop up articles and pictures of Cap.

_The most recent news on Steven Rogers has theories and newsreels on his accusation of working within the widely known terrorist group HYDRA, as well as his relationship with the other vigilantes, now labeled as terrorist._

Tony lazily waved his hand around and shrugged his shoulders “Yeah, Yeah, I already know. Show me everything you have on the explosion he caused”

 _This is what is on the bombing in California. There were 11 casualties, all caused from a bomb that authorities say he planted._ FRIDAY chirped, as photos of the huge fireball appeared on the screen, along with burning buildings and remnants of what looked like a truck swallowed in the flames.

“Official motive?”

_The motive Secretary Ross said during his press conference was the motive documented. Steven Rogers planted to bomb in order to serve HYDRA._

The billionaire scanned around the photos, around the relentless destruction. Although everything seemed to fit into place, it seemed only like the ‘pieces’ were shoved into place, not neatly put in. It just seemed like wild accusations rather than concrete evidence. And he needed the evidence.

“Ok then…” Tony scratched his chin in thought, and turned his back at the screen “If I can't go to the scene, I'll bring the scene to me. FRIDAY, bring me a virtual crime scene reconstruction of the scene from every database you got”

 _Initiating virtual crime scene reconstruction from F.B.I., and C.I.A. intercepts_ FRIDAY said, as a large, blue hologram appeared in the workshop. A large, 3-D still sat tightly in the workshop, along with the huge explosion and bodies that sat around. Tony walked through his work tables and walked in front of the makeshift bomb, sitting right next to the explosion in pieces. He waved his hand around the hologrammed bomb and picked it up.

He glanced at the right, small spots that coated the inner rim “So, you did it…” He muttered to himself “Give me the elements inside the pressure cooker bomb”

 _The bomb seemed to be filled with sulfur and gun powder, and was lit from an outside source. It’s approximate blast radius is about 25 feet_.

“Anything else that could have added to the explosion? Gas? Oil?” Tony asked, as she swiped the pressure bomb away from his hand.

_The only source of oil would have came from the car,_

Tony glanced at the still of the explosion, and immediately walked up to it. With the swipe of his hand he washed away all the smoke and fire, revealing the burnt up car frame underneath. His eyes curiously scanned the car wreckage, in search of anything peculiar.

He grabbed a specific price of the frame and pulled in, zooming in on the upper roof of the frame. He noticed a small ding, not enough to do by a rock, but enough to bend the frame slightly. An explosion would simply destroy the frame, not bend it.

He squinted his eyes towards the holographic ground, in search of any debris. Then a small price of thick metal passed his eye, metal to thick to come from the car or the pressure cooker bomb. He carefully licked up the hologram and twisted it around in his fingers

“Can you determine the composition of this metal?” Tony asked, as he stared into the hologram.

 _The metal composition is a hybrid of a steel, which I am unable to determine right now, not a match for the bomb as well as the frame of the vehicle._ FRIDAY responded.

“Scan any other pieces that are similar to this then”

_Scanning_

Suddenly, small pieces of broken, sheep metal rose from the scene and floated around Tony. He slowly waved his hand through the small pieces of shrapnel, and clenched his hand, immediately transforming it into a ball. He glanced back at the dent sucked into the car, and carried his holographic ball along with him. He looked back at his little ball, and noticed the jagged edges each piece had. Like it exploded apart. The pieces in Tony’s head started to click together, and formed what actually happened.

It was a setup.

The loud, buzzing ring from his pocket caused him to jump in surprise and drop his holographic ball to the ground, causing the small, metal shards to scatter back to its place. He quickly pulled out his cellphone, and hung it to his ear.

“FRIDAY, shut it down, daddy's busy” Tony commanded as he walked across the room, to his portable Iron Man suit.

 _Yes, ‘father’_ FRIDAY responded, as the holographic scene dissolved into thin air, and the screen shut down.

Tony pointed his finger up in the air, as though his system could actually see him “I know I put more sass into you, but don't sass me” He said, as he answered the call.

“You've reached the incredibly life-like voicemail of Tony Stark, leave a message sometime” Tomy greeted.

“Are you ready Tony?” Secretary Ross asked, completely ignoring Stark's last comment.

“Ready as I'll ever be”

“Good. Then starting heading to Berlin. They'll be expecting you at the prison” Ross commanded.

Tony literally stopped in place, in complete surprise “Go to where? I thought Rogers and his gang of criminals were in California” frustration crept into his voice.

The Secretary sighed “ I thought so too, until a certain Berlin prison came on the news as the U.N was voting. The prison was broken into, and security cameras caught Barnes in a uniform. He stole items that were prison property and evidence”

Tony held his temple is frustration, as he wandered around his workshop “Look, can't you get someone else to detain Barnes? The German Police, or Vision?”

“I don't know if you remember Stark,” Ross snapped “but Barnes killed them without as so much as lifting a finger. And Vision has Steve covered”

The billionaire blinked in surprise “Since when have you been in contact with Vision?”

“That is not important. What is important is that he is detaining Steve. You are capturing or taking out Barnes if he uses force against you. End of story”

The phone call cut out, leaving Tony to shove his phone back in his pocket in frustration. He could quip all he would like, but that wouldn't change the fact he was blind to the Accords with a ball and chain. If he refused, he'd be ‘retired’ and would be locked up in prison if he tried to do what he wanted.

It would have been so much better, easier, sainer, if Ross told him he was after Cap. He could just talk to him, and could shove back his anger towards him to the back of his mind. But you can't talk to a broken robot, a broken robot who killed your parents. He knew if he faced Bucky, it would be a fight to the death. Like it was only mere months ago.

But then again, he was only doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually meant to post this chapter yesterday, but I was really busy, so sorry about that. I'll probably post the next chapter tomorrow. Anyways, what do you think of he fic? Comments are appreciated!


	12. Wanderers

_In the town one morning I went_

_Staggering through premonitions of my death_

_I don't see anybody that dear to me_

_Dear shadow alive and well_

_How can the body die_

_You tell me everything_

_Anything true_

-Tiger Mountain Peasant Song(Fleet Foxes)

* * *

 

_Brussels, Belgium_

“C'est assez _(That's enough)_ ”

Natasha gently waved her hand in the air, causing her waiter to stop pouring the hot, steamy coffee into her cup. The waiter nodded in response, and scurried along to other tables.

Behind thick, dark shades Natasha scanned her surrounding from her little patio table. A sea of people strolled along the brick laid city, like a thick carpet. Most were just tourist staring at the tourist pamphlets, others just people who wave through the thick crowd just to get to work. In the red head’s eyes however, no one seemed to pose any real threat to her. No suspicious people dressed in black and looked like they were just having a lively conversation with themselves.

She picked up her hot coffee and took a long sip, still keeping a wandering eye on her surroundings. She couldn't be too careful, she was on the run from the Accords and its consequences.

As soon as Rhodey was deemed to be in stable condition, she swiftly left the compound, to escape from being put in a jail in the middle of the goddamn ocean. Only hours later, she got a phone call from Steve. Next thing she knew she was driving a helicopter and helping Steve break out Barton and the others out of prison.

A ghost of a smile appeared when she saw Clint, in that tight prison uniform with bleeding scratches. The way he looked absolutely relieved, when he entered and collapsed into the helicopter. She liked to think it was because of her, but she knew that it was because of his wife Laura, and his three kids. He would get to see the, again.

She could recall the exact details when she brought Clint back home to his kids and farm. How she remembered how Laura was so pissed at her.

" _Dad!"_

_His kids, Cooper and Lila squealed in excitement, as they made a run towards their father, outside Clint had a warm smile that crossed his face, a rare smile, as he picked up his daughter and swung her around._

_Laura stood in the doorway of the house, holding little Nathan in her hand. She had a small, tired smile, as she glanced at her kids hugging Clint, a warm reunion. When she glanced to Nat however, that same smile seemed forced, almost fake.Nat caught on to the burning anger that rose from her eyes._

_Holding his kids hands, Barton walked up the stairs and embraced his wife tightly. As they let go of their hug, Laura handed the baby to Clint. The anger from her eyes disappeared as she saw her husband with that rare smile as he gently rocked the baby._

_Natasha, with a forced smile plastered on her face, walked slowly to the foot of the stairs. Laura let a wavering eye glance at Nat, shooting her anger towards her once more. She whispered a few words, leaning towards her husband's ear, causing him to nod and take the kids inside. Laura put on a blank, unreadable stare as she slowly went down the steps and stood closely beside the red headed assassin._

_"He looks reasonably happy to be home" Natasha said, as she saw Clint disappear from the entrance to behind the wall._

_"He does, doesn't he?" Laura replied in a tired tone, as she tightened her lips "You shouldn't have called him, get him involved in a mess he had no reason to be in"_

_Nat shrugged, and faced Clint's wife "Well, he owed me a favor, from when his mind was hijacked by Loki. I just cashed it in"_

_"He's my husband, not something you can use" Laura hissed._

_"I know. But he's also my friend. He didn't have to agree, you know. He could have just hung up and went on with his retired life"_

_Laura shook her head, with a cruel smile on her face "That's it, he's you friend. And friends don't say no when the other's in a dire situation. Now look where it got us!" She rose her voice "He's a goddamn criminal now, for something that could have be easily avoided! Not only will we have to hide, my kids can't have a normal life anymore! We now have a target on our backs!"_

_"I understand why your angry, but-" Nat was swiftly cut off with Laura raging, shaking finger pointed right at her._

_"Cut the crap Natasha!" She shouted in her face, as tears welt up in her eyes "You could have just let us be, let us go on with our lives, like Clint wanted to, I'm sure you knew that. But you had to involve him, pin him against the government while you played them. Now I know my kids, I, Clint, can't be safe, because he's a criminal who fought for something that he could have cared less about. And you know what?"_

_Laura face went stone cold, nothing the red headed assassin had ever seen on her face._

_"I blame you"_

Nat knew that she could never repair the relationship with Laura ever again. The trust that they shared with each other was now all in the past. But at least Clint was with his family, and that was what really mattered to her.

She felt sooner or later Laura would eventually learn to hate her, she simply didn't know when. So it wasn't much of a surprise when Barton's wife started to scream at the top of her lungs at her because of the arrest. It was bound to happen. In her line of work, she always counted on making these friendship's and seeing them disappear in a blink of an eye.

The Avengers were not that different, really. She made a version of a friendship, built with little trust, but made with one common goal. So when the Accords happened, the frail friendship simply shattered, because their was no common goal in sight. Each person seemed to have their own personal goal, no matter which side they fought for.

She did too.

The only person she counted as a friend other than her trusty archer was Steve. At first, she simply saw Cap as a man out of his time, with old-fashioned ideals that would never work in these times. Then of course, SHIELD fell. She saw a different side of him, not as a soldier, but as a leader. A leader of his own life, rather than following others and taking their word on it. She saw him turn when Bucky showed up, and tried to kill him.

A small flip phone beside her hand gently buzzed, vibrating the table. Natasha grabbed the phone and answered the call.

"Barnes has been spotted. The details will be sent shortly. You know what to do" the voice said on the other line.

"On my way" Nat replied in a blank tone, and shut the phone. As she stuck the phone in her coat pocket, the waiter passed her by.

He stopped, and glanced at Nat in a friendly manner "Voulez-vous quelque chose d'autre madame? _(Would you like anything else, ma'am?)_ "

Natasha simply looked blankly in the distance, her expression covered up with her thick glasses. She responded.

"Non merci. Je dois tout ce que je veux ici"

_No thank you, I have everything I want right here._

* * *

  _Location Unknown_

_"Mr. Brooks?"_

_The man sat, hunched over in a small, stained fabric chair, started blankly at the wall. His icy blue eyes failed to twitch, even with the sound of doctors yelling in the background. His choppy, jet black hair, sitting just above his ears, helped shield what little expression he wore on his face. The only source of what was infecting his mind was the way he twiddled his thumbs in his hands. It was like he was trying to start a fire from his hands._

_"Mr. Brooks?"_

_She's going to be alright, he thought, trying to reassure himself. The last time he saw her, before his last job, she sparked lively conversation with him, talking about his father and his brave efforts in war. He remembered her warm smile, perfectly picturing it in his mind, as she talked about his father with pride and warmth. But he knew, in between the lines, she was simply trying to relive the past as much as she could, to avoid her bleak future._

_"Mr. Brooks!"_

_He snapped out of his stone cold stare, and glanced up. The woman, wearing dark colored scrubs, glared impatiently right into his eyes. He slowly stood up from his chair, and silently walked along the angry woman. His mind was too full of anxiety, he didn't even bother to apologize. Not that he would, in the first place._

_"Dr. McClain will be with you shortly" The woman said in a blank tone, as she opened the door. She flicked on the lights to reveal a office like space, with a simple desk and chair, and a large light box that hung on the wall behind._

_He nodded slightly in response, without wavering his blank expression in the slightest. The woman gave a softened glare at him, before she quickly shut the door, like he had a contagious disease. In some sorts, he did, but not the kind that forces you to stay in bed. It was the kind that could be easy to get infected with, but hard to get rid of. But he didn't want to cure his disease, in fact, he wanted it to stay, like an old friend._

_He snapped his head to the side as he heard the door creak slowly. Behind him, he saw an older man in a white coat, with a frown stitched to his face. In his hand, he held a few clear, plastic sheets, which he immediately started to hang up on his light box._

_"Mr. Brooks'" Dr. McClain said in a monotone voice, without acknowledgment "I assume you're here for the test results?"_

_"What else would I be here for? Getting my appendix ripped out?" He replied, raising his brow. The doctor shot him a deadpan stare for a few intense seconds, and finished hanging up the plastic sheets._

_"These are the results from the latest x-ray" The doctor flipped on a switch, revealing a large rib cage with red spots that traveled all around the chest cavity, like a blood red sea "I regret to inform the overall prognosis isn't looking too well. The infection has spread to a major organ, other than the lungs, which we specified before. It seem to have spread to the liver, a very bad sign that the infection is taking over her body, like cancer would do"_

_"Then do something about it" The black haired man snapped, narrowing his eyes at the doctor "That's what I'm paying this damn hospital for, isn't it?"_

_The doctor drew his eyes away from the man "I assure you were doing everything we can to help her, but-"_

_"I didn't bring her here to see her die!" The man shouted, jumping from his chair "I brought her here to give her the help she needed, because she after the hell she's been through, she damn deserves it!" By the time he finished screaming at the doctor, his normally pale, white skin was flushed a bright red. His icy blue eyes were open and crazed. His teeth were bared, like a rabid dog._

_He thought of using the knife he had in the inner pocket of his jacket. He thought of pulling it out, and digging that sinister blade straight into the doctor's chest. He thought of slowly pulling out his knife, and seeing sticky, hot blood ooze out, sticking to his once clean knife, to tarnish it._

_The only thing made him draw his fingers away from his pocket was the fact the doctor couldn't help his mother if he was dead._

_The doctor however, like a robot, didn't react in the slightest. His blank, frowning expression stayed put, obvious he was used to the yelling, used to close families screaming right into his face when their loved ones only had months left to live. It was part of the job._

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Brooks, but money cannot buy everything"_

He flipped his long, ragged knife around gingerly in his hands, staring intently at the silver reflection that bounced off the knife. With one hand laid behind his head, he laid straight on his back in his white cloth bed, even though he hasn't slept in it in months. He never really got sleep anyways, it was useless to him. In few days time, after his mission, he would be put under cryo anyways. It was like his thoughts were frozen as his body, which only made everything even more tolerable

The faint sound off boots clicking on the ground softly filled his ear. He immediately stopped flipping his knife, and held it sideways inched above his face. He slowly drew his hand from under his head, and brushed a long chunk of hair that sat over his left eye. Instead of an icy blue one, a blood red one sat in place. A long, thick, jagged scar ran across his left eye, a reminder of his past before HYDRA.

As the thick, metal door swung open into his dark, cool room, he brush his hair back into place, and in one swoop, got his bare feet on the cool concrete. About 5 guards rushed into his room, tightly holding guns. The guards surrounded a nicer, uniformed man, who held his hand straight behind his back.

"He's prepared to see you now" The uniformed man responded in a business like manner, and slowly stepped outside the door. The barefooted man did nothing in response, other than leave his room. The metal door slammed shut to a close, causing the guards to stand even closer to the man.

The man brought an hint of a grin at the amount of guards that watched his every waking moment. It was almost funny, he thought, even with all this security, he could easily slice their necks or put a bullet in their head within a minute, probably even less. It was just false security.

They all walked through the halls, a howling, blood thirty scream ripped through the halls. It didn't bother the man, he was used to it. It was just his part of his everyday life. It never bothered him anyways.

"изменник"

_Traitor_

The scream, for what sounded like death, echoed louder and louder, as he traveled through the dim, dank, hallways.

"страх"

_Fear_

He turned a corner, and entered a large, long hallway, with a thick glass window on the right side. He didn't bother to glance at the source of the shrill cries. He knew what was on the other side. More like who.

"кровь"

_Blood_

Behind the thick glass wall sat the Crimson soldier with the thick, blunt bangs, and a new bloody hole on the side of her face. Her temple bleed out with thick, sticky blood, covering her hair and face.

"вечный"

_Eternal_

Her thoughts were in a scramble, like her mind was being burned alive. Any memories from anything simply disappeared, like they were burned away from the face of the planet. What she thought the blond man was just a distant memory she had no hope of getting back. Any memory of her blood thirty attack was just a figment of her imagination.

"наказание"

_Punishment_

The loud, murderous screams suddenly cut off, like someone stapled her mouth shut. The man who was lead through the hallways felt a little saner, considering he didn't have the screams for death ramming themselves into his ear anymore. It was only for moments he heard only silence, rare and sweet.

The man slowly entered a dark, shadowed room, with a large, dark wooden desk. All he could see were hands that laid impatiently on the desk, as though frustration filled the leader's mind.

"You may leave" The leader commanded with a monotone voice. The guards replied with the HYDRA salute, and cautiously closed the metal door. As soon as the door clicked shut, the man shot an angry, puzzled glare at the leader, as though suspicion grew over him.

"Where's director Grant?" The man gruffly commanded.

"He's been..." The leader paused "taken out of commission, so to speak"

"Then what happened to him?" the black haired man rose his voice "And who the hell are you?"

"If you would let me-"

The man suddenly lept at the desk, and tightly clung his hands onto the edge of the wooden surface. His glare deepened, as he bared his teeth tight "Why are you here?"

The leader lept from his leather chair, and slammed his fists on the desk. The man could only make blurry, faint details from his face, the rest was covered in darkness. But he could make out one thing clearly: He just pissed the new director off.

"You listen to me, soldier!" The leader growled with a vengeance "I WILL ask the questions here, not a soldier with a shitty attitude. If you do speak against me again, you WILL be wiped. Do not take that lightly" The room filled with the sound of his deep, shaky breaths. His fists were sliding around his desk, red from his anger.

The man, studying his new leader's tone, drew his icy blue eyes away from the frustrated leaders, and backed up. His eyes blankly glared the ground, as he crossed his arms.

The director took a deep breath, and collapsed into his chair, hiding back into the shadows "Now, I understand you are one of the soldiers who has their...mind. Correct?"

"Yes sir" The man responded evenly, as drew his eyes back to the leaders.

"What is your name?" He asked in a lighter tone.

"Vince-"

The leader shot him a deathly glare, and held out his finger in disapproval "Your name, not something you might have been called in your past.

The man paused, and squinted in thought "Everybody calls me the Shadow Soldier, so that is my name"

"Shadow Soldier..." The leader bent back in his chair, and rubbed his chin in thought. Moments later. He slipped a thin file onto his desk, inching it towards the soldier. The soldier suspiciously eyed the file, waiting for a command to either take it, or even destroy it.

"In this is your new mission. Take it" The leader commanded. The Shadow Soldier immediately snatched the file and started to thumb through it.

"One bogey, with missing appendage. The kill squad will also aid you in your mission, in disguise. I want confirmed kill within 24 hours. If hell breaks loose, clean everything. Understand, soldier?"

The soldier paused for a few seconds, as he scanned the file. Slowly, he sinisterly lifted his head from the page, and shot the leader a crazed, happy glare. His mouth twisted into a large, sickening grin, as though it was stitched in. In his head, he was just given one of the best missions he'd ever received.

"It'll be my pleasure"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note. I don't own the Shadow Soldier, I have permissions to use him though. Anyways, not much on news, so hope you have a nice day!


	13. Desperado

_Now, it seems to me some fine things_

_Have been laid upon your table,_

_But you only want the ones that you can't get_

_Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger_

_Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home_

_And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'_

_Your prison is walking through this world all alone_

_-Desperado(Eagles)_

* * *

 

_Brandenburg, Germany_

_~~The man with my face name is~~ (My name is)James Buchanan Barnes(My name now is Bucky). ~~He was born~~ (I was born) March 10, 1917, in Brooklyn( ~~Like the blond man~~ (Steve) was, except he's a year younger). Steven Rogers and ~~him~~ (I) were best friends since childhood(Are we still friends, like the film said?). When ~~he~~ (I) was friends with Rogers(Steve). He was smaller and always sick(Small Stevie. Wasn't he always getting into trouble?). ~~The man~~ (I) became Sergeant Barnes in (put in the date when I found it or when I remember) and went to England. ~~Rogers~~ (Steve) got bigger. He found me the first time ~~the man~~ (I) went to the HYDRA base(Is that why I survived? From what HYDRA did to me?). After ~~the man~~ (I) was a Howling Commando with Captain America(Steve...in tights, right?). The man died when he fell off a train on one of his missions(Because of HYDRA?). Sergeant James Barnes died falling off a cliff and someone else survived and took his place_

_(Who did? Which man?)_

Bucky thumbed through the pages of the first journal he kept since he escaped the clutches of HYDRA. For the first few days after SHIELD fell, he was utterly lost, with not one clue of what to do. All he could think about how he recognized the man he almost killed. So it was only natural when he saw a newspaper ad for the Captain America Museum, he dropped everything and went. After hours, no, days of reading, watching, and looking around the museum, he realized all of this new information flooded his mind, too much for his broken mind at the time.

So, he decided to do the journal. Whenever something came up, he'd write it down. It wasn't the most organized thing in the world, but it made perfect sense to him. He first thought he was writing it because his kind couldn't take all of the memories that shoved themselves into his mind, but after a few years, it became something else. He kept them, wrote in them, just in case his mind was put back into a blender. If his mind was wiped again, he could pick up the pieces of his shattered mind once more, easily.

Wiping. How the thought of it made him shudder. How easy it would be to take years of memories and thoughts away in a snap. All of his hard work was so fragile, and could easily be taken away. But wiping in a sense made thing easier for him. It was a blissful, ignorant, of how his mind could be empty and blank, derived of any thought. It's easy to put something into something empty than something bursting at the seams.

And how much he had to write down now.

He couldn't enjoy that luxury right now, however. He was still on the run, now from the German authorities. He didn't know where to go, but he knew he had to get out of the country as fast as he could.

Bucky shut the worn journal and tossed it into his new backpack. He ditched most of the weapons and guns back at the hotel to make room for his journals, but he still had a gun or two left.

He zipped his backpack and tossed it into a small Volkswagen he 'borrowed' back in Berlin. Luckily, someone was kind enough to forget their keys on the hood of the car, making it easier for the Winter Soldier. He strapped himself in and revered the engine, ready to take off. But there was one small problem.

He only had one arm.

His stomach dropped in realization, like a the door of fate slammed in his face. Sure, the one arm situation would work in any other car, but he had to take the car that was stick. And that at least took two arms. He was going to have one hell of a day.

Bucky blankly glanced back and forth and at steering wheel, and the driving stick, thinking of how he was going to make this work. He pulled the stick slightly and pushed the ordeal, jerking him up. His hand immediately clamped on to the steering wheel, straightening out the car.

About 30 minutes of practicing and pathetically crashing into poles in an empty parking lot, he felt satisfied with driving on the open road and drove down the street. It was a little difficult for him at times to keep the car straight, but enough that it didn't attract the cops. Or at least he thought so.

He slowly braked to a stop at a red light, and feverishly scanned around for anyone who seemed a little off. Seconds later, a shiny cop car crawled to a stop, dangerously close beside the Volkswagen. If the cop car was a foot closer it would certainly be a car crash.

Inside were two, usually burly policemen, with thick, black uniforms and a pair of new black glasses. The only source of expression came from their frowning mouths, either bored or waiting for something exciting to happen. Bucky had his fair share of the German authorities, enough to make him uneasy. But it wasn't just because of the police.

The Winter Soldier felt their sharp glares pierce through the glass and dig into his head, even with their sunglasses making their expression. He carefully looked out of the corner of his eye, just barely twisting his head to detract as much attention as possible. Yet, it seemed like the longer the red light hung on the street light, the more intense the police's curiosity grew.

His fingers anxiously dug into the steering wheel, as butterflies began to fly in his stomach. He tried to look away, toss the anxiety from his kind, but as the staring continued, so did his fear. His head slowly, in motions, moved more and more towards the cops, scanning their expressions. Expressions, emotions, anything for that matter signaled him. It gave him something to think about for his next move.

One of the cops suddenly gave a small upward jerk, of his head, and turned his view back, to the road. Bucky thought he escaped, that he barely slid past the authorities. But then something bright flashed past his side mirror. He squinted his eyes, and leaned slightly closer and closer. At first, it was simply a black smudge, but when it came into full detail, The Winter Soldier eyes changed from curiosity to realization of horror.

It wasn't a smudge. It was a sniper.

So, when the green light finally came, he didn't slam on the pedal to speed through his new hell. He slammed the car into reverse.

The cop car raced forward, before screeching to a stop. By the time it reversed and made a u-turn, Bucky was making a speeding break for it. Bullets dig into the car, into the door and the glass. With the first bullet, the glass shattered and exploded all around the car. The the brown haired soldier could only lean back and forth, in hopes of escaping another bullet wound. Hell, he didn't even take out the last bullet from Berlin.

Bucky weaved in and out of traffic, with 3 cop cars trailing close behind. More bullets penetrated through the weak frame of the car, spitting glass and car parts where. It was like he was in war, maybe because he actually was.

Suddenly, a cop car slammed into the Volkswagen, dangerously rocking it into traffic, for seconds, Bucky's hands slipped the steering wheel, as his car swung around like a toy top. He clamped back on to the wheel, and strained out the car. With the sound of revving, Bucky swung his head, and saw a car darting right at him.

As the car was about to make the Volkswagon into sheet metal, Bucky slammed the car forward. The cop car barely scraped Bucky's car, before it was obliterated into a street lamp. Like butter, the car violently sliced in half, and scrunched up like a paper ball.

Bucky didn't bother to look back, he had more pressing concerns. The two remaining cars slowly speed up on either side, dangerously inching closer and closer to Bucky. He tried to pull forward, speed up to,escape his new episode of terror, but like glue, they stuck together.

The cop car suddenly violently slammed into the driver side of the car, sending Bucky's small and weak car spinning out of control. The tires smoked, creating a thick fog of burning rubber that engulfed the car. The other cop car crashed head first into Bucky's trunk, fortunately straightening him out, and put him back in control for a few precious seconds.

He speed and dangerously weaved through the thick traffic, his anxiety only building up within his head. He jerked up his head to the rear mirror, only to see the cop cars trailing close behind. If they were actually police, they wouldn't be crashing through every single car and taking them down in their path. With each other benched they hit, they left a trail of battered and trashed metal, like a bomb went off.

The ex-Winter Soldier focused his attention back on the road, even with bullets still raining through his car. He just had to look forward, and pay attention to the road ahead of him, not only to examine his next move, but because something was about to screw him over. A huge concrete pole.

He didn't have much of an escape route. He quickly scanned around, and saw the cop cars slowly but dangerously blocking him in. If he turned, he'd be screwed and get caught. If he kept on his current path, he's not only be screwed, he'd be dead. Either option only spelled the end for the Ex-Winter Soldier.

But then again, their was another plan.

Bucky let go of the wheel, and slammed the car into reverse. He pounded his foot on the pedal, like he was trying to stomp and break someone's neck. His car skidded across the pavement like ice, screeching against its black surface.

Everything after happened so quickly.

The cop cars, oblivious, only speed up. When they noticed Bucky's little plan however, it was already too late. One of the cars tried scorching to a halt, but like tin foil, crashed into a huge truck in front. The car creaked and shoved itself under the thick metal of the truck, crumpling to half its size. The sound that escaped as it crashed was like the sound of wet meat dropping to the ground. It was obvious who ever drove that car wasn't ever coming back home.

A large delivery truck violently slammed into the side of the other car, causing it to flip and tumble like a child's toy. It rolled and rolled, leaving a line of metal and glass in its wake. Suddenly, a body crashed through the window, and flipped through the air. The man's could only scream his last breath, before his fleshy body became one with the concrete. It was like Bucky was only there to watch, as a sickening, squishy sound escaped the man's body as he skidded across the concrete like he was an eraser. A thick trail of dirty, dark blood followed him, streaking across the pavement. Bucky knew that man was dead even before he finished ripping off the skin from his face.

He couldn't stop however, he knew situations like this tended to get worse with every passing minute. He had a bit of guilt from the men who obviously died, but it was either him or them. But then again, isn't wasn't really the cops who were after him. He knew that from that start, considering the 'police' plowed right through the cars of innocent people, and that sniper. So, the guilt disappeared within a snap.

Bucky needed to make a plan to get out of the city, and fast, not only to escape other men on his trail, but the actual police. He was certain his picture would be right back up on the newspapers by the end of the day, a situation all blamed on him. But in his mind, he should take the blame. He just hoped no one died.

With a weak, beaten up car, Bucky plowed through the empty street, his foot pressed heavily on the pedal. He didn't bother to check his speed, as long as he was going fast, it only meant he could get out of the city even faster.

Suddenly, a low, deep hum filled his ears, increasing with each passing second. When his eyes drew to the rear mirror, his stomach dropped. Out in the distance, a black motorcycle speeded right past his view. His eyes followed it, all the way to the passenger side to the car.

A tall man with icy blue eyes glared blankly back at him. He wore black and red military pants and shirt, fitting loose around his muscled body. Thick, heavy armor that shielded his upper body and shins. He also had black commando boots, heavy and ready for action. His face was was shielded with a black mask, covering the lower place of his face, only making his eyes more menacing. On his head, he wore a small, yet powerful black and dark blue electronic visor, with a small glass piece over his exposed eye.

Of course, HYDRA.

Bucky already recognized the Soldier, no the Shadow Soldier. If the blood red HYDRA symbols that covered the Soldier's shoulders and chest didn't already set the Winter Soldier off. Bucky could only look with a hint of terror in his eyes as the Shadow Soldier speed up close to his car and simply drove off, all with a sinister look in his eyes.

As the black haired Soldier speed off, Bucky his already frail car rock to the side, like it was painfully hit. Then a high pitched, quiet beep was heard faintly, like a sinister ring to his death. He tightened his hand on the wheel, realizing what it was.

He didn't think, he only acted. He grabbed his backpack and slammed the car door open, and lept out, escaping the small, metallic bomb stuck to the side of his car. As he flew through the air, the bomb went off, creating a huge, magnificent explosion in its wake. The force of the explosion pushed Bucky further into the air, tossing him like a rag doll. His backpack of memories slipped from his hand, and simply tumbled across the ground, far from the ball of flames. As the fiery explosion skidded across the melting asphalt with the car, Bucky tumbled across the street, his metal shoulder sparking each time it pounded into the ground.

Suddenly, he dug his fingers into the hard ground, hissing in pain as the tips of his fingers were felt like they were being shaved off. A trail of exposed rock followed his fingers, as he skidded himself to a stop. He slowly pulled his dirty and bloodied fingers free, curling them into a fist to numb the pain. But he had no time to think about the pain, he could easily block it out anyways. He had the soldier to think about.

Like he was being called, the Shadow Soldier made a sharp u-turn and darted right towards the Winter Soldier, ready to plow him down. Bucky didn't bother to move, like he already accepted his fate. He clenched his first, and looked blankly as the machine to his death speed up closer and closer. Unexpectedly, the motorcycle slowly came to a stop, stopping just feet away from, the anxious Winter Soldier. The black haired soldier calmly hopped off his motorcycle, and neatly parked it in place, like he was prepared to go any minute. Like the Bucky wasn't even a threat.

Underneath that thick mask, the Shadow Soldier had a sly grin on, Bucky could almost sense it. It was a smile that couldn't be forgotten, not after so many missions. That ghost of a grin only meant one thing to the anxious Winter Soldier

He was now the mission.

Like the wind, the soldier whipped out his two pistols, and let it rain bullets. Bucky quickly ducked, and curled into a ball. He rolled across the pavement a few times, as the bullets followed close behind. They whizzed past his ear, as he jumped back to his feet.

Bucky, as he jumped back to his feet, immediately pulled a small knife from his pocket and threw it right at the Soldier, aiming for his hands. With the Shadow Soldier's quick reflexes, he swung his body around, the knife a ways off from anything near him.

With his back to Bucky, Bucky shoved his foot into his back, causing him to stumble and drop one of his pistols. The Soldier, with a new found slight rage in his eyes, jumped in the air, and sent a swift kick to the Winter Soldier's chin. His neck escaped with a small crack as he was flung to the ground, slamming into the pavement.

The Shadow Soldier calmly, yet swiftly, picked up his pistol and stood tall over Bucky, in a menacing fashion. He aimed the barrel of his guns right at Bucky's head, in for the kill. It seemed like that playful yet sinister demeanor flooded back into his eyes.

Bucky, his hands tight in a ball, suddenly lifted his body and clenched onto the barrel of the pistols and flipped the Shadow Soldier his lain body. The Soldier's eyes filled with surprise but like the wind, blew away before even Bucky could recognize emotion. As he rolled back to his feet, his thick, black mask fell from his face, and clicked to the ground.

Now Bucky could actually see that sly smile, that crooked grin that only read terrible news to the Winter Soldier. To the Shadow Soldier however, this wasn't even a mission, hell, it was a play date.

"I thought you lost your touch there, old man" The Shadow Soldier said in a smooth, buttery time "It's been what? 2 years?"

Bucky only looked back silently, studying his next move. But like any other Soldier, it was almost impossible.

His sinister grin only grew at the corner of his mouth "Almost forgot, you're a pawn. Your head is just a pile of shit now, compared to what it used to be"

"I didn't have a head" Bucky replied surprisingly, in a quiet voice. Even the Shadow Soldier was slightly taken aback.

"So, it speaks" His smile changed into a tight one "You did, and I had to admit, it was a goddamn great mind. Now it's filled with this crap. And it needs to be cleaned"

The Shadow Soldier shrugged his shoulder, and took out a thick blade. He carefully rubbed his fingers across its metallic surface, as he strolled around in place.

"That's what the new director says, at least. But in reality, you're just waste of HYDRA's time. He shoulda just sent me here to blow your fucking brains out and, leave them here, but no, you still have "potential" to be who you once were" He simply shook his head in disgust "They say HYDRA doesn't tolerate failure, but I'm standing right in front of one right now. But, I'll just make sure when they wipe your mind, you'll forget what the hell you are"

The Shadow Soldier stopped, and stood frozen in place. He hand his hands together, with the knife hanging from the edge of his fingers. His neck was slightly bent to the side, along with that infectious lazy grin that was plastered on to his face "So, what do you say old man? One last go before they send your brain back into the blender?"

Bucky could only stand in place, his body frozen. Like a whisper, he carefully replied "I don't wanna start a fight"

The Soldier chuckled "Well then, that's too bad isn't it?"

The soldier erased the smile from his face and leapt at Bucky, knife first. Bucky swung out of the way, inched from the pointy knife. The soldier simply dug his fingers into Bucky's shoulders and swung him, cutting the knife deep into Bucky's arm. The Winter Soldier quickly groaned in pain as a stream of thick blood soaked up in his jacket.

The Soldier threw his knife, aiming at Bucky's throat. Bucky quickly jerked his head up and grabbed the knife in the air, digging his fingers into the blade of the knife. Red blood splattered all over the knife as he chucked it aside. The shadow soldier only scoffed, and clenched his hands into tight fists.

Bucky wiped the excess blood from his cut up hands onto his jacket, and carefully circled around the Soldier, taking small, tiny steps. The soldier suddenly lunged at Bucky again, his dangerous fist right in front. Bucky smacked his fist aside and delivered a blowing punch to his temple. The soldier snarled as his head twisted unnaturally, but snapped right back into place.

Fists flew. Kicks were delivered. Some were flawlessly blocked, others not so much. Like they've machines, they kept on delivering punch and after punch, kick after kick, trying to trip each other up. The best they did was bruise each other, a small brown patch that grew bigger each time they slammed their forearms to block a hit. Each knew tired wasn't an option, someone had to go down. Then someone did.

Bucky swung his foot high in the air, and delivered a swift kick to the Shadow Soldier's chest. He stumbled back, like a drunk man trying to get his footing. That sly grin was far gone, and was replaced with a blood caked snarl. With a death glare. He carefully wiped the thick blood away from his mouth and flicked it to the concrete, leaving a stain of dark blood.

"Enough" The Shadow Soldier growled, as he tried to regain his footing "It's finally time to end this"

"Спут-"

_Sput-_

Bucky, like he was made of jello, collapsed to the ground. He desperately tried to move, twitch his fingers, but it was like he wasn't in control of his own body. His mind was foggy, unreadable even to him. It wasn't empty, yet it wasn't full either. The noise around him became a loud, piercing ring that rammed itself into his ears. All he could see were small, black dots that sat on top of a blurred background. It was like Bucky was only there to watch as his own body seemed to shut down, like a machine.

Suddenly, a long, black needle pierced itself into the Shadow Soldiers neck, latching onto his skin like a leech. He growled and hissed in pain as thick sparks of electricity crawled throughout his body, traveling through every little inch it could take. His body twitched uncontrollably, like a fish out of water. He slammed into the ground, his body violently twitching as the electricity streamed in.

All Bucky could do was look back blankly, as the large red and black blurred object moved across his vision. He squinted his eyes, as another blurred object leapt in, next to the red and black object on the ground. This object was simply black, but with a dark orange top. It seemed familiar to Bucky, though, like he's even it before.

The red headed assassin sent a fluid, knocking blow to the Shadow Soldiers head, knocking him right out. Even in his unconsciousness, his body twitched slightly like the electric needle was adding insult to injury.

Natasha glanced around the newly wrecked area, and ran to Bucky, who still laid unresponsive on the ground. She knew she came just in time, just moments from another catastrophe. She already passed the huge, glowing fireball a few moments back. That was a sign already that Bucky was here. Now she just needed to figure out what the hell happened to him.

"Barnes, Barnes" Natasha called his name, as she grabbed his shoulders and shook him, trying to get him back to reality. All Bucky could do was look back with wide, blank eyes that only twitched when Natasha rocked him harder.

Bucky's ears were only filled with the loud, pounding ring of white noise, and nothing else. He didn't responded to 'Barnes', like it was foreign to him.

"Barnes!" The red headed assassin shouted into his ear, causing The Winter Soldier to tightly squeeze his eyes shut. He slowly inched his hand to his head, tightly curling his hand into a fist, like he was about to jab himself in his head.

Using all her might, she groaned and pushed Bucky to his back, and grabbed onto his arm. Bucky didn't even react, his mind was as foggy and messed up as his vision he could comprehend it.

"Come on Barnes, you're going to have to help me" Natasha hissed between her teeth, as she tried to yank Bucky's arm. She dug her fingers into his skin, attempting to lift him to his feet.

The oblivious Winter Soldier blinked a few times, as his vision started to settle and the ringing in his ears began to dissipate. He could finally make out the details of the woman trying to help him up. He recognized him as that red headed girl, the one that was always with Steve for some reason. He didn't have a clue what her name was, but if Steve seemed to trust her, maybe he could too.

His mind clearing up, Bucky used his strength and got back lazily to his feet. He still stumbled a little, like a child learning to walk, but he didn't want any help. He just wanted to get out.

He stumbled over to his backpack and plucked it from the ground. He lazily swung it over his shoulder, and turned to the red headed assassin. Although he was feet away from her, he still felt slightly weary of her. The point being, why she was even here?

"Your Steve's friend" Bucky said, examining her.

Nat crossed her arms "You could say that. He never told you my name, didn't he? No one did"

Bucky shook his head.

"I'm Natasha. Natasha Romanoff" She replied, in a disappointed voice. Bucky couldn't tell if it was just because no one told him her name that she was disappointed, or if it ran deeper.

"How'd you know I was...here?" Bucky asked "Did Steve know?"

"No, Rogers doesn't know, not yet anyways"

"Then why are you here?"

Natasha sighed, and drew her eyes directly to Bucky's "For a variety of reasons, one of them being personal. I have debt to repay. And It's not because of Steve, it's because of you"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...its been quite a while since I posted another chapter...I'm really sorry to those of you who really enjoyed this and we're looking forward to future chapters. Luckily, I should be back to posting here! Because of school and other outside influences, I can't promise that I'll regularly, but I will post. Anyways, if your new to this, welcome! I hope you all enjoyed.


	14. Clocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Coulson and his team, regarding agents of SHIELD, everything is post season 1. This means, in the context of this, all events regarding the team, only season 1 has occurred.

_Confusion never stops_

_Closing walls and ticking clocks_

_Gonna come back and take you home_

_I could not stop that you now know, singing_

_Come out upon my seas_

_Cursed missed opportunities_

_Am I a part of the cure?_

_Or am I part of the disease?_

_-Coldplay(Clocks)_

* * *

_San Francisco, California_

Steve couldn't believe it, he couldn't comprehend that the man who was dead for nearly 4 years was sitting in front of him, casually drinking a cup of tea like it was nothing. He even saw his bloodied, limp body in a casket, at his funeral. He wanted to believe Coulson was just a clone, but that tight smile and light but eyes screamed Agent Coulson to him. It wasn't everyday someone just magically came back to life.

Coulson, feeling Cap's deep curiosity cut through the air like butter, gently set down his tea and neatly curled his hands into a ball on the table.

"You must be very shocked right now. I was too. I don't blame you, either"

Steve drew his eyes to Coulson's "I saw your body, a few days after Loki killed you. How are you alive?"

"It's a long story, something that I wouldn't want to get into right now" He chuckled lightly "I'll make it simple. I got killed. I walked it off"

"I'm guessing your still working for SHIELD, or what's left of it"

Coulson nodded "That's right. We might be a smaller organization now, but our main objectives are still the same. HYDRA was just an inconvenience"

"Last I heard, Director Fury-"

"Died?"

"No, left SHIELD"

"Fury comes in for a favor or two, but he's still 'dead'"

"Who's the new director?" Steve asked.

"Your looking at him. Director Coulson is now in charge"

Steve head was filled with many questions, more than he could even answer all at once. But he shoved him aside to the back of his mind, and asked the most obvious question of all.

"Then Director Coulson, why are you interested in helping us?"

Cousin sighed "We heard about your problem with Sergeant Barnes. We thought we could help"

"We're fugitives"

Coulson replied with his tight smile and shrugged "We're..slightly attached to the government, but they don't have to know. We worked with them for different intentions, anyways"

Steve thought it out in his head. It seems harmless enough, Coulson just wanted to help, he seems like that kind of guy to help others. But, like anything else, the reason of his arrival didn't sit right in his stomach. Something in Steve's mind just screamed out to him, that something else has to be at hand. It was the real world, and no one was that nice.

"As honest and welcoming your reason is for helping us, both of us know that's not why you're here. Call me old-fashioned, but from what I learned, there's always a catch" Steve said, his words cutting through Coulson's mind.

The director have a tight smile once more, and stood up "You're almost right, but I think the reason here is something we can both agree on, trust me" he pushed his cup of tea further down the table "Get your team ready and I'll debrief you once we get on the Bus"

"The bus?" Steve asked, automatically thinking of a small, beaten up public bus.

"It's just a nickname. It's much bigger than a regular bus"

Steve, still confused at what the Bus is, put that thought aside and walked into the kitchen, where Wanda, Sam, Scott, and Pym sat, quietly sitting and drinking their lukewarm tea.

At the edge of the entrance, Steve quietly entered the room, with his thick arms tightly crossed.

"Sam" Steve jerked his head towards the door, as Sam snapped out of his thoughts and likes up to Steve. Sam nodded, and followed his blond friend to another room.

"So? How did it go?" Sam asked.

Steve glanced around himself, like someone was watching him, and leaned closely into Sam "Long story short, Coulson is taking us in"

"He tell you why?"

"Sort of, but he has other reasons"

Sam drew his eyes to the ground, in thought. Although he would always stand by his sections and side as well, he couldn't be overly cautious "Are you sure you can even trust him? He's not just going to use you, or turn us in?"

Steve sighed. Feeling of distrust lingered in his mind, but once he thought of those bloodied, Captain America trading cards, those feelings disappeared. He knew Coulson meant well, and wouldn't trade in his beloved Captain America for anything, like his trading cards.

"I trust him enough" Steve replied.

Sam sighed, and took a step away from Steve. Again, he wanted to trust Steve's intentions, but he knew how much Bucky meant to him. That kind of unconditional friendship could easily inhibit one's thoughts, Sam knew that from his own personal, experience, with his old friend Riley.

Sam leaned close to cap, and whispered "You're absolutely sure? I know you want Barnes back, but I don't want you to put yourself in a situation you can't dig yourself out from"

"I know Bucky would do the same for me. He do anything to get me back"

"I know, but..." Sam trailed off, carefully choosing his next words. He had a different interpretation of the Steve's best friend, nothing close to what he thought of Sergeant Barnes. It was almost dealing with another entirely different person, even if he never meet Sergeant Barnes. He just didn't want Steve to be...disappointed if Bucky wasn't that Bucky, the Bucky in World War II. Because so far, it was obvious things had changed in that one man.

"I'm just asking if you're not letting your emotions get in the way of your judgement"

Steve paused, and drew his eyes away from Sam's. He asked himself this same question, over and over again, like a constant ring that filled his mind. This wasn't just about Coulson anymore, he was set on his decision for that. It was for Bucky. Even Steve had to admit, he did some pretty questionable and stupid things for Bucky, even before they went in under ice.

"I'm not. I'm doing the right thing, for Bucky" Steve said, emphasizing his friends name.

Convinced, Sam nodded "Alright then, let's go"

They both walked back in the kitchen, and saw Pym talking away with Scott, as Wanda sat attentive to the conversation.

Pym switched his attention once the two soldiers walked into the room "So, I assume you're leaving right now?"

Steve nodded "Wanda, Scott, are you ready?"

Wanda nodded in response, and got up from her chair. Scott on the other hand drew his eyes away from Steve, and awkwardly took a big swig of his tea.

"As much as I wanna come, I'm staying here" Scott finally said, after a long pause "It's just...It's gonna be safer this way"

"You don't have to explain, I understand" Steve said, as he dug his hands into his pockets "Take care"

"You too, Captain America" Scott said with a loose grin, as he raised his cup of tea, in salute "If you need me again, I'm just a phone call away"

Steve nodded, and left the room, meeting up with the apparent director of SHIELD.

"Ready?"

* * *

"So, this is still SHIELD?" Wanda asked, as she examined the huge, massive plane, otherwise known as The Bus. The only SHIELD thing she ever seen was that massive helicarrier when she fought Ultron. For an organization that's technically not supposed to exist anymore, SHIELD still had the tech.

"Yep" Coulson said, as he slammed the dark car door "We're still doing pretty well for ourselves"

The bottom of the plane slowly opened, hissing as a large, metal plate touched the ground. Inside, it revealed a large room, with a large glass wall and a small flight of stairs.

"We're going to stay in here for the remaining time, at least until my team and I deem it safe to land somewhere else" Coulson walked up the large cargo door, with the ex-Avengers close behind, looking around their new surroundings.

"Team?" Sam asked "Thought we were the only ones"

The director turned to face the team of fugitives, with a tight smile "Well, we are SHIELD, aren't we?" Cousin faced the glass door, and swiped his clearance card through a small slot next it "Let me introduce you to the team"

The door opened, letting the fugitives in. On one side of the room, a woman in a white lab coat looked intrigued as she had her eyes close to a microscope. Where a large, modern table stood, a man swiped his hands through what looked like a 3-D model of some kind of machine part. Each time his fingers flawlessly, move or twitch, so did the holographic model.

"This is Simmons and Fitz, "Coulson pointed at the woman, concentrating on her microscope study "Simmons is an expert in Biochemistry and has two Ph.D in fields I can't even begin to explain. She is also one of the youngest graduates from SHIELD academy, like Fitz was" He moved on to the man who's attention focused on his 3-D model "Fitz is our top level resident engineer, with one of the highest marks from SHIELD academy as well. And, he also understands almost everything with engineering and technology I can't begin to comprehend either"

Glued to their work, the two scientist barely reconsider that they had guests. Even when Steve and the others walked right past them, like they never existed. Sam shot them a look of awkwardness, but quickly washed it off when Steve noticed his odd face.

They followed Coulson down the stairs, to a large, open area with a few seats and a large screen and table.

"We have a few beds left, but at least one you will have to find other means of sleep" Coulson pointed to small, almost closet like rooms, shoved together on the side of the plane.

As they approached the large screen, behind the thick, circular glass, sat another woman, clearly older than Simmons. She had her stern eyes glued to her work, as she lightly swept her finger across the glass table. A taller, more muscular man stood tall over her, his eyes glued to the same work

"This is Agent Melinda May. One of the top SHIELD agents I've ever meet, and even rivals Romanoff's skills. Trained highly in field work, she's...someone you don't want to mess with. The other agent is Mack. Fairly new, not as new as the other personnel we have back at the base, but still has all the experience this teams needs"

Coulson simply moved on, as Agent May and Mack went off on their work. Steve and the others followed Coulson to the end of the plane, to a small sitting area. Another woman sat at the table, with her fingers near her lips in thought. Her free hand hovered over a thick laptop, working hard on her task. She looked the youngest out of all the people Steve saw so far, yet her face read experience.

"This is Daisy Johnson," Coulson said, grabbing her attention immediately "She's the head of our, in broad terms, enchanted person's program. She leads and works with a team with a few others just like her, back at the base"

"Inhumans, that's what we call ourselves" She corrected, barely lifting her eyes of the screen "But, yeah"

"In...humans?" Wanda squinted her eyes in thought, digging to her memories in Sokovia. She heard that name whispered from one scientist to another, from her time under HYDRA.

Daisy sighed, and lifted her head from her work, expecting to explain the entire 'inhumans' concept. At first sight of the star spangled man himself however, Her eyes immediately widened, like a star struck teen.

She slammed her computer shut and jumped up to her feet "Your Captain America, aren't you?"

"Just Steve Rogers" Steve said, as he stuck out his hand. Daisy latched to his hand and gave it a few hearty shakes. Even when she let go, she had a smile on her face.

"I've read a lot about you, ever since SHIELD went down. And again, just days ago" Daisy said with a calmer tone. Traces of suspicion started to leak in, at the thoughts of the so called bombings in California.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting anyone" Steve said, picking up on her tone "It was caused by was someone else, we just don't know who"

"And on that note, Daisy, can you help me set up for the debriefing?" Coulson commanded. Daisy nodded, and grabbed her laptop. "I'll come back once we're ready. Until then, you can explore the Bus and familiarize yourself with it. You're going to be here for a while"

With that, the director and Daisy fled the sitting area, leaving Steve, Sam, and Wanda to their own devices.

Steve glanced around his new surroundings. He knew this place was going to be home for a while, at least until they found Bucky. He just hoped he was safe for the time being, safe from the government and whoever tried to kill him at first. But, Steve believed that Bucky would be fine on his own, he was for nearly 2 years. He was capable of caring for himself. But to Steve, it didn't have to be that way.

Bucky didn't have to be lonely.

* * *

_Wakanda_

Bruce's tired, bloodshot eyes lazily scanned the next file that appeared on the screen, swiping it away within mere seconds. The concept of time was foreign to him now. He lost track of time. He stopped watching the clock 4 hours ago, he had no idea what time it was, but his brain didn't care. His body begged for sleep, but his brain commanded him to dig deeper. All he wanted was to find the identity of that Soldier who almost killed Bucky, and the scientist himself.

He groaned, and rocked back in his chair, as he finished yet another file. He thought it would be a little easier to find what he was looking for, since practically all of HYDRA's files are on the Internet. But a thought tugged at his mind, a less reassuring thought. Maybe the file simply wasn't uploaded, and was in paper. He just wished all of this wasn't wasted time.

His ears perked up at the sound of the door squeaking open. He turned around, to see T'Challa urgently walk in, wearing an elegant suit.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Dr. Banner," The young king began, as he stopped near the tired scientist " but I have business to attend to. I should be back in a couple of hours"

"Then good luck, your highness" Banner replied in a quiet voice. T'Challa's eyes squinted as he examined the sleep deprived scientist. It was obvious to him that Banner was in need to some serious rest.

"You should get some rest, at least until I come back"

Bruce chuckled quietly, and rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up "It's fine really. I've felt much worse before. I can do this, really"

"I would not want you straining yourself because of this" T'Challa responded, concerned.

"This won't let out...the other guy, if that's what you're trying to subtly say" Banner shrugged "But if it puts your mind at ease, I'll wait"

"Thank you" T'Challa nodded, and began to walk to the exit.

"Let me take a look at this last file, and I'll be done" Banner shouted, as scanned the computer screen to examine another file.

"Whatever pleases you"

He nodded, and clicked on yet another file. He expected it be like the rest, just full of useless information and data about meaningless projects. When he went on the first page however, something immediately caught his eye.

On the page full of Russian writing, a small picture was tucked in the corner. It was a simple black and white photograph of a man in some kind of military uniform, but with the recognizable HYDRA symbol set into the cap. Under the cap was a man with a blank face, with dark grey eyes. A few strands of his dirty blond hair peaked out from his cap, and fell to his face.

Bruce's eyes lit up, realizing he's seen this face before. The same face of the assassin who attacked them, and almost killed Bucky. It was him.

"Uh, your highness, you might want to take a look at this..." Bruce nervously said, as he frantically signaled T'Challa. He quickly shut the door, and walked quickly to Banner. Right when T'Challa laid eyes on the small photo, his eyes widened.

"You found him" The young king said, leaning into the computer screen in curiosity.

"Yeah…" Bruce's voice trailed off, as he began feverishly scanning the new information. He knew a little Russian, but not enough to understand every little word. So, with an electronic language translator at hand, he deciphered and uncovered the mystery of the soldier

"Luka Ivanov, high ranking HYDRA commander," he began "Joined HYDRA at the age of 21 in 1952 and quickly moved up the ranks. He was stationed first in Moscow, posing as a soldier, then was relocated to Siberia. Contacted HYDRA soon after his mother died. It doesn't say from what, but it said his father and brother died from World War II well before her death"

"Any mention of his mental state?" T'Challa asked.

"It says here his reason for reaching out to HYDRA was to quote, 'Kill those American bastards', so I suppose we could say he was a little mad"

The young king squinted his eyes in curiosity "Does the file indicate any connection to the U.S or other Americans?"

"Um..lets see..." Banner scanned the files once more "Yeah, here. His brother was stationed near Romania. Died from friendly fire from an American bomber plane during an invasion. His father, from disease he contracted from a camp. After that, it looks like he didn't care he was working with a connected Nazi organization"

T'Challa tried to put the pieces together, from this man's life. It simply seemed like he was out for vengeance, revenge for an accident. It's like he simply snapped when his mother, the only connection to his past, died. So, instead of dwelling on it, he replaced it with killing and murder.

When the young king saw him as the assassin, the soldier, he seemed much younger than what his age should be in this era. Instead of being a elderly old man in his mid eighties, he seemed like a a strong man in his mid thirties. T'Challa immediately thought of cryo. It was like freezing a piece of meat, except it's living, breathing flesh just wouldn't expire.

"Huh..." The curious scientist leaned into his computer screen "That's odd"

The young king raised his eyes back to the screen of illegible words "What is?"

"This page here...it's an autopsy report. He...died"

"That's...impossible" the young king said in shocked voice "We both saw him"

"It should be" Bruce immediately agreed "But it lists here he died in 1967, from...trauma. He died in a fire in the Siberia base"

Pictures below depicted of what used to be of Luka Ivanov. What used to be his body was a piece of burnt, mangled, chunk of flesh. His skin was as black as coal, exposing the brown, cooked meat underneath. What used to be his face was now unrecognizable, completely burnt off. Pieces of his bones peeked out from his cooked flesh, browning at the edges like when paper begins to light burn. It was obvious there was no way to save what used to be this man, let alone study him, like what HYDRA was known for.

"Then...who is he?" T'Challa whispered. The question rang over and over in his mind, like a bell. Their was a few dozen reasons T'Challa could make sense out of this, but none seemed to fit together. None of it truly made sense.

He snapped out of his livid thoughts, as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Frazzled, he quickly checked it, and stuffed it back into his suit pocket.

"I must go now" The King tugged out his suit and walked away from Bruce "Do not hesitate to call if any other complications arise" Banner nodded, and T'Challa swiftly left the room.

The scientist sighed, and dug back into his file search. He did know what to make of the apparent death of the man who shot him in the shoulder. Considering the revelations in science today, it wouldn't surprise him of HYDRA managed to bring a body back to life, but rebuilding a body was another thing. It was like any other machine, the human body; there could only be so much repair and damage before it finally gives out. And Luka's body was simply that, a body.

A loud, obnoxious ringtone snapped Banner out of his livid thoughts. He clumsily pulled out his phone, and answered it, oblivious to the person on the other line.

Banner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes "Hello?" He croaked.

"Hey Banner. Miss me?" Tony greeted in his classic tone. Bruce immediately stopped rubbing his tired eyes, and froze. He never expected to deal with Tony again, let alone this soon. It only made the situation worse for the fact he was alone, without the help from the clever king. He realized he was in a rut before he knew what the call was about.

"Oh, uh, hi" Bruce said in a surprised tone.

"How's Wakanda again?" Stark paused, barely letting Bruce peep one word "Wait, you know what? Let me get straight to the point. Where is Barnes?"

"W-What do you mean?" Banner strongly replied, with fake confidence in his voice.

Tony scoffed "Please, don't play dumb with me Banner. You were playing hide the zucchini, and apparently, you froze it in cyro. You had him I have evidence"

Tony paused, and let a recording to the talking.

_"Yes, Barnes is alright, Captain Rogers" T'Challa's voice popped up, with a crackly and muddled tone._

_"What about the Cyrostatis? Is it safe to leave him that long?" Steve asked concerned about Bucky's safety._

_"It's perfectly safe. It's just an induced amount of suspended animation, like hibernation" Banner's voice emerged "Think of it as a-"_

The recording cut out, leaving the shocked scientist to contemplate his next move. What could he really do, after all?

"How did you find out?" Banner questioned.

"It's wasn't that hard, just breaking the encryption did the trick" Tony shrugged "Now, tell me where he is"

"How long have you known about this?"

The billionaire groaned, tired of being questioned like criminal "A day or two, because the secretary we know and love won't stop bitching about Barnes"

"The Sokovia Accords..." Banner muttered under his breath. Of course, Ross had to lead the accords. It couldn't be anyone one least other than a man who wanted to create a living weapon, only to destroy New York. There were few other options that popped up in his head that would make a better secretary than Ross. Even Thor would be a better Secretary than Ross.

"Yeah, and I'm pissed about everything right now;" Uncharacteristic anger creeped into Tony's tone "Accords, Ross, Barnes, but, I'm still doing the right thing, am I not? Tell me where Barnes currently is or the U.N will take action against Wakanda"

"Against an entire country?" Banner was taken aback, at the threat of global intervention for one man.

"Wakanda signed along with the accords, so. And with Barnes public killing streak, he's a global threat. Don't be surprised if you see a U.N armory truck at your door, looking for Barnes"

Banner sighed "That's, unfortunately, T'Challa's decision. Even if I agreed to hand in Barnes without his permission, I couldn't help you. I don't know where he is"

"What?"

"T'Challa and I have been trying to find him, but we haven't had any luck. We heard about the prison break in, but it stopped there. That's the truth, Tony"

Tony didn't have any words to describe his new shock and frustration. Just as he thought he had everything sorted out, set and game, Banner has no idea where the hell the Manchurian Candidate is. As much as Tony would have like to yell and protest against Banners words, he knew he was telling the truth.

Tony gave a loud, frustrated sigh that pounded into Bruce's ears "Ok, fine. But, if you get any information on his whereabouts, tell me, because I don't think your highness will be pleased with the U.N invading his country"

Tony's loathing tone cut off. Banner, less frazzled than before, sighed and slid his glasses back on. It was bound to happen, he thought. Something was eventually going to break in their so called unbreakable plan, almost like the titanic. It wasn't as spectacular as he originally thought, but it was cringe all around.

But what really caught Banner off guard was Stark's angry, loud demeanor. It was something he never quite heard from the billionaire, the level of hatred in his tone. It was obvious to him that this situation wasn't just about helping the U.N, it was about helping himself. The U.N and accords was a simple cover for his real intentions, to avenge his parents death.

Banner heard little about how the Winter Soldier killed Tony's parents. All he heard was a car crash, and the Winter Soldier showed up soon after. Bruce could sort of see Tony's perspective. His parents were killed by a man without consequences, or at least consequence from the law. But his anger and rage had carried on, staining his thoughts and actions, affecting them to a point that all he always thought he was right, always doing the right thing.

But he saw a man who was beginning to get consumed by his own rage.


	15. Eclipse

_  
All that is now_

_All that is gone_

_All that's to come_

_And everything under the sun is in tune_

_But the sun is eclipsed by the moon._

_There is no dark side of the moon really._

_Matter of fact it's all dark._

-Pink Floyd(Eclispe)

* * *

  _Potsdam, Germany_

"Bend over a little" Natasha commanded.

Bucky nodded, and bent his back slightly forward. A tight, numbing sensation crawled through his shoulders, as Nat carefully sewed his wound shut. Dark blood lightly stained her fingertips as she pierced a small, sewing needle through his skin, over and over again. Although it wasn't the best method to close a wound shut, it guaranteed that bullet he got from the Berlin prison wouldn't be in deep in his shoulder.

"How long until we can go?" Bucky muttered, as he blankly looked at the pavement.

"A few minutes, just until I can get the wound cleaned" Natasha replied. She grabbed a damp, wet towel, and lightly patted the bleeding stitches, causing the blood to easily soak into the towel. She stood up, and twisted it tightly over the bathroom sink. Thin rivers of washed-out blood flowed from the one white towel, staining it a light red.

Bucky glanced at his blood stained shirt and jacket, which were thrown carelessly on the sink. Even his cap had small, subtle spots of the dark red liquid. He knew he would have to get another pair of clothes, but he consequently knew he couldn't afford it either.

Silently sighing Bucky strained his hand, and carefully traced his fingers against his new stitches. He felt the small, tiny bumps against his finger tips, lightly staining them in a red color. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling the thin liquid that was his blood coat his hands.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Bucky said in a hoarse tone, as he started at his finger tips with an empty expression.

Natasha rung out the towel, and sat right in back of the Winter Soldier once again "I figured you didn't like a bullet in your shoulder"

"I don't mind the pain. I can handle it"

"I'm sure you could," Natasha quietly replied "but it doesn't mean you always have to live with the it"

Bucky put a small, lifeless tight smile on his face "I do. It's always there"

He lightly ran his fingers over his thick scar, where his arm was supposed to be. Everytime he moved his shoulder, his metal arm, it felt like to the Winter Soldier is was about to rip off from his skin. He could feel the metal rub against his thin skin whenever he rolled his shoulder, no matter what. Although the ideology of HYDRA started weapons can't feel, Bucky did everyday.

"There's a difference between living with it and coping, Barnes" Natasha said, as she carefully taped on a thick sheet of cotton on to his wound.

"My name is Bucky" He slightly twisted his head, and saw Natasha's red, glowing hair shine from the weak lights.

"Bucky, then. Coping will only go so far"

"It's worked so far"

"It can't be ignored forever. When that day comes, the pain will eat you alive" Natasha whispered with a bitterness. She knew this, experienced this first hand. As much as she tried to wipe the red from her ledger, it would simply stay. At first, she tried to ignore it, move on, but it only made her pain unbearable. It turned her into the assassin that the world feared. When she learned to live with it, it made her human again.

Bucky silently fell back into his thoughts. He knew the pain would always be there. The pain that ate at his mind was their since the day he took his first life under the Winter Soldier. He remembered their frightened, crying face before he blew their face off. It almost sent a chill up his spine at the things he was capable of doing, the torture he could send to people. The Winter Soldier was still there, trapped in his recovering mind.

He squinted his eyes, focusing on a few words The read headed assassin said before. It confused him, considering he didn't remember Natasha before he almost killed her. Twice.

Bucky turned his head, and faced Natasha "You said you had a debt to pay. For me"

"What about it?" She lifted her eyes, then pointed to his bleeding, cut arm "Give me your arm.

He moved his arm, resting it on the sink "...I don't remember. I remember shooting you"

"And choking" She pointed out, as she rubbed his arm clean with a small, sanitary wet wipe.

"That too"

She threw the wipe aside, and began to thread a thick, needle "I don't know if you will ever remember, but when...I was trained, raised, I met you. They sent you in to train me. I was younger at the time, but you made me feel something I never thought I would feel again"

"What?" Bucky quietly asked, staring into her icy, blue eyes.

"Human" She replied blankly, as she pierced his thick skin and made the first stitch.

A thick silence filled the air between the two assassins. Bucky tried to dig into his mind for that memory, but it was like they never existed. At least he knew why she felt so familiar, even a little warm. They must have erased mind once he became a little too human, something a living weapon should never feel.

A small, dull buzz caused Bucky to whip his head to Natasha. She only started at him blankly, as she pulled out a small, vibrating phone from her pocket. With a click, she tucked it between her shoulder and neck and answered it.

"Director..." She sighed "It still feels odd to call you director, Coulson"

"A simple 'hello' would have been nice, Agent Romanoff" Coulson replied.

She raised her brow, as she pulled on her thread "Being formal, aren't we?"

"You can't be too careful" the director shrugged "Besides, It's not everyday you work for SHIELD, not anymore, anyways"

"Fair enough" Natasha agreed, as she made the last stitch.

"Did you get the package?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah. I'm stitching him up right now" She cut the thread "How long until the extraction team comes?"

"We should be there within 15 hours, maybe longer, depending on how much gas we have left to burn"

"Pick up location?"

"Kranjska Gora. You might need to use the passport to get there"

"That's not a problem" Natasha replied quickly, as she cleaned Bucky's new stitches

"Good. We'll discuss the plan once we get you" Coulson said. The red headed assassin heard a faint voice in the background, causing the director to mumble a few words.

"Give me a few seconds, Natasha" Coulson said in a stern tone, followed by a crackly, static tone that filled her ears.

After a few seconds of silence, Bucky caught on. Focusing, he began to hear the light static emoting from the phone.

As Natasha left a thick, cotton sheet on his new stitches, Bucky turned his head towards the red headed assassin

"Who was that?" Bucky quietly asked.

"Coulson. Someone Rogers knows. You'll meet him soon enough"

Bucky nodded. He didn't know how to feel about this Coulson guy, but as long Steve knew and trusted him, he could assume he wasn't going to do anything to him.

The static suddenly ceased. Natasha's blood stained hands lightly held on to the phone, as she nodded a few times and mumbled a few words. She lifted her blank eyes towards Bucky, causing him to squint in curiosity.

"You want to talk to Steve? He's on the line" She asked with a commanding tone

Bucky paused for a moment in thought. Steve. He was probably worried about him. He didn't want Steve to do that, not for everything he's done for him so far. So, Bucky replied to Nat with a little nod.

"I'm putting Barnes on the line" Natasha handed him the phone "You know how to use this, right?"

"Yeah" Bucky said, as he held the phone closely to his cheek.

"Bucky?" Bucky heard Steve's familiar voice on the other end.

"Steve…" The Winter Soldier mumbled quietly, as a small grin of relief almost crossed his tired face.

"Are you alright Buck?" Steve asked in concern.

"I'm fine" Bucky replied in a gritty voice.

"You sure? I heard you got beat up bad there"

Bucky glanced at the thick cotton that covered up his arm stitches "Yeah, I'm sure" he paused, as he looked back at his injury. Beat up bad there. Bucky put on a tight grin, and chuckled, at an old memory.

"What?"

"Didn't I...when you were...smaller..." Bucky paused and squinted in thought, digging into his kind for this memory "You were getting...beat up by this guy...in an alley..." He chuckled again "you held up the trash lid like it was gonna protect you. Then I came in...I beat up that guy...he tried to punch me...but I kicked him"

Steve put on a small grin "Yeah. You told me that I liked getting punched"

"Getting beat up?"

"Yeah"

"...I think you still do"

Steve smiled and chucked through the phone "You're not too different there, Buck"

Bucky glanced to his arm again "You might be right"

A warm, comfortable silence sat between the two soldiers, as they relived those memories again. Bucky was a little glad that he could make Steve happy again, even if it was for a few seconds. Deep inside his mind however, he felt...detached from those memories. It was like they didn't belong to him anymore. They belonged to the man who came before him. They weren't his.

"We're going to bring you back Bucky" Steve assured "You're in good hands"

Like the wind, the light grin that was plastered on Bucky's face disappeared. He tightened his grip on the phone, and glanced quickly back to the ground, like he was anxious. It was like Steve pressed the wrong buttons.

"Ok" Bucky replied in a gritty, blank voice, hiding his true feelings.

"I gotta to cut this short. I'll see you soon" Steve said quickly, like he was rushed. Bucky replied with a soft grunt, before he quickly handed the phone back to Natasha. As she quickly answered back into the phone, he blankly stared off into the dark, damp wall. His eyes traced the small imperfections in the flat wall, everything from small bumps to small indentions.

You're in good hands.

The thought made Bucky's hands twitch in response. As much as Steve wanted him to be assured, Bucky knew well enough anything could happen. The last time he was told he was in good heads was when HYDRA experimented on him. When they turned him into something to be feared. A weapon.

"Ok then. See you in 15 hours" Natasha ended, as she hung up the phone. She stuffed it back into her pocket, and walked to the sink. She vigorously rubbed her hands under the running water, causing a light red stream to run from her hands, and into the sink. Swirls of red filled the sink, slowly draining down into the once white sink.

It always reminded her of her old jobs. Seeing the washed out blood run from her hands brought her back to her days before SHIELD. She would do the job, get paid, then wash up. It was like a ritual. In SHIELD, she had the luxury of taking a shower, and washing off any excess blood that way, however in her kill for hire jobs, that luxury was rare and in between.

At least this blood didn't come from one of her dead targets. She could easily live with that comfortable thought.

"Try not to move your shoulder or arm too much" Natasha commanded as she wrapped the bloody tools in a paper towel "I don't want to stitch the up again"

Bucky nodded, and carefully got to his feet. He walked to the sink and picked up his torn, bloody shirt. He traced his fingers around the bullet hole, with the ring of crusty, dark blood around it's ragged hole. He sighed, and slowly lifted his arms and put his shirt back on.

"Thank you" Bucky said in a sincere tone, as he glanced to Natasha. He saw her blank blue eyes reflect clearly off the mirror. This time however, a tinge of warm news flashed before her eyes. Although it was small and quick, Bucky could recognize it.

"No problem" She replied, as she put the wet, cleaned tools into a dry paper towel, she carefully wrapped them and dropped it into her pocket.

"Where are we going?" Bucky asked.

"Kranjska Gora. We need to start moving before the police or anyone else who saw that accident see and reports us" Natasha pulled out a dry paper towel and softly began drying her faintly bloodied hands. Bucky had virtually no idea where that place was, but he assumed it was remote and far away. Perfect for a hidden operation

"Steve's there then?' Bucky lifted his head in curiosity.

"No" She threw the soiled napkin into a nearby trash can "It's the pick up location. After, you're free to do whatever you want to with Steve"

The Winter Soldier harshly swung his head back towards the ground, like guilt consumed his thoughts. It shouldn't have, for the things he tried to do to escape HYDRA, but the guilt sat in his mind, like he was letting Steve down.

"I just wanna go back under" Bucky mumbled.

Natasha turned in around, staring at Bucky in sight surprise. After everything, she sort of expected Bucky to crawl back to Steve with open arms, not to avoid the Star Spangled man's presence.

"I heard you were in the ice for a long time. Nearly 6 months" She sat down, across from Bucky.

"Bad things have already happened since I've been out"

"They always happen' The red headed assassin shrugged "It's hard to blame yourself for that"

Bucky simply gave a tired, tight smile "It's not, when you don't know if you did it, or the words did" He drew his eyes to Natasha.

"I can still feel the Winter Soldier in my head...Sometimes I don't know when he's there...other times...he makes sure I know he's there...But either way...I still did what he did…"

Natasha sighed, and drew her eyes to the ground "I had a friend who was brainwashed for a little. He took down a couple of people along the way too. By the time he regained control, he acted like you, blamed it on himself"

Bucky saw the hidden pain within her eyes, the pain she tried to bury, but couldn't "What are you trying to do?" He asked in a painful, girt-filled tone.

She lifted her clear blue eyes to Bucky's steel blue ones "Understand. Because after he lost his mind for that time, he wasn't quite the same. He changed"

Bucky went completely silent, and buried his head in his pile of thoughts. As much as he wanted to make Steve happy, he needed to put everyone else first. He wanted HYDRA out of his head for good, so he could the man at Steve's side . He knew Steve one way or another would bring him back. He just didn't know which Bucky he was expecting. He didn't know which Bucky he was anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay for this chapter! It was a bit hard for me to write and edit, but it's finally out! Hope you enjoyed!


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